Pursuit of Happiness
by angel-death-dealer
Summary: A shooting leaves Lisbon seriously injured, and Jane contemplating his feelings for her. When it becomes unsure whether or not she'll survive, the waiting game gets to all of them and affects their lives in more ways than thought possible. Jisbon/Rigspelt
1. Chapter 1

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter One**

It was like watching the world collapse around him. Again. It didn't matter that their suspect, the bastard that they were supposed to catch, had just made a convenient escape in the midst of the chaos, and it was of no importance to him that at the far end of the hallway, people were screaming, ushering their families back into their apartments out of view of the scene taking place. He didn't care to acknowledge the calls coming into his ear through the earwig he'd been required to wear, asking why he'd requested an ambulance moments before, who it was needed for, asking about the suspect, asking who was hurt, asking what was going on, asking if he was still there. He didn't register his heart pounding in his chest, or even the elderly man at the end of the hall telling him that he, too, had called an ambulance. None of that mattered.

Not to him.

Not anymore.

What mattered was Lisbon.

Teresa Lisbon, the strong Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes unit. He'd watched her in action on more than one occasion, observing how well she handled her position, thinking that she was perhaps one of the strongest women in the world, especially with not only her training behind her but also with her past turning her into a hardened adult from the day her mother had died. She'd been the woman she was today before rites of passage had even seen her through her adolescence. He'd often thought of her, there were many things he considered her to be in his life: his boss, his keeper, his minder, his friend, his get-out-of-jail-free card, his fastest path to Red John, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He'd watched, completely immobilised by fear as a weapon had exploded out a single gunshot, no longer aimed at Jane himself as it had been a few moments previously, but rather at Lisbon herself. Fear had pulsed through his veins as things began to slow down before him. He knew exactly what was going to happen the moment he realised he couldn't stare directly into the barrel of the weapon. He wasn't going to be hit by the bullet. He wasn't going to hurt. He wasn't going to be shot. Lisbon was.

She didn't flinch as the bullet hit her, her weapon didn't drop from her hand, not until she looked down at her side and saw the damage for herself, anyway. The blood didn't even spread immediately through the white shirt she was wearing – television always lied about that – but instead he could see an almost pristine hole in the fabric. He could see it in her eyes – she was mulling over thoughts about how no one had time to grab a bullet-proof vest because they had left so quickly, moving from one crime scene to another without time for standing still and adding an extra layer of protection.

"Lisbon," he found himself whispering, his voice touching heights of pain that he'd never reached before.

He'd once walked into a room and seen his wife and daughter's mutilated bodies displayed before him, an act of violence he hadn't been there prevent, so much blood surrounding them, painting a taunting smiley signature on the wall, that he knew that dropping to his knees, trying to revive them would do no good. Their lives had left them too long ago. It had been too long. The damage had been done.

But to watch the damage slowly uncoil in front of you? That was a horror he'd been spared the first time around. Not this time, though.

Lisbon looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. There was no one else in the corridor apart from them anymore, and even in the midst of the terrified screams of the residents escaping down the stairwells, they were unable to concentrate on anything but each other. Jane's whisper had been immediately distinguishable from the far away cries of the civilians to her, as his was filled with nothing more than a devastation that caused more pain to hear. As she realised that the bullet that had been fired was, in fact, lodged in her torso, the blood began to seep through her shirt, a bright, angry red that stained her front; an icy pain started to spread through her body too quickly for her to comprehend.

She started to fall, surrendering to gravity's will when her legs gave way beneath her, but she never felt herself reach the floor below. Jane had already dropped with her – through intention or his own strength abandoning him, she never knew – catching her in his arms before she could hit the hard ground, which would have only caused her more pain. She fell limp into his arms, feeling his embrace become rigid as he did his best to stall the bleeding with his jacket and hold her at the same time. Impulse took over, the determination to save her overcoming the sickening feeling that raged through him when he saw the sight of so much blood seeping over her.

"Lisbon..." he muttered, looking down at her dazed face.

She looked up at him, and he could see that she was already fighting for consciousness through the pain. His heart would have fallen in his chest, but it had already dropped beyond repair and could fall no further. If she fell unconscious, he was afraid that she would never wake up again, especially with so much blood being lost. It was the blood that stopped him from doing what he really wanted to do, the blood that reminded him so much of his lost wife and daughter that he wanted to hold her so tightly against him that it would be impossible for her to leave him as well, but the rational part of his mind that took over, telling him that what she really needed him to do was try and stall the bleeding, because anything otherwise would only be causing her more pain that necessary.

Her green eyes were round and moist, glistening with an unusual fear as she blinked rapidly. She struggled to focus on something around her – anything – until her eyes found his once again, and he held her gaze fiercely. He gathered her more tightly in his arms, cradling her head gently in the crook of his elbow as he had done with his daughter many years ago when she fell asleep in his arms, only he was mindful of the wound that Lisbon bore. By now, the entire front of her shirt was covered in her blood...her blood...and it was this blood that changed everything.

Was every woman he got close to going to be drained of blood?

"Jane..." she gasped, pain lost in her voice as it was too overcome with shock.

His heart pounded louder, they'd been through so much over the years but he'd never, not once, heard her sound afraid before. He swore at himself, unsure of whether or not he actually said it aloud, but he didn't care. He should have reacted sooner. He should have been able to do something, anything, to prevent her from getting shot instead of him. He shouldn't have wound the guy up so much that he'd pulled a gun in the first place.

"Oh, god..." he almost whimpered, feeling a bile rise in his throat, but he choked it back down as he bent his wrist, so that he could bring a hand to her cheek as well as cradle her head. He dared not release any of the pressure he was placing over the gunshot wound. "Teresa..."

He watched, waited, looking for the blush that always rose to her cheeks when he used her first name. It was sometimes a rush of annoyance, but more recently it had been one much like a school girl with a crush. It had amused him, so he kept using her first name from time to time. The blush added an extra smile of his own to his day. He waited, but there was no blush, no smile, no anger, no stubbornness. He wasn't winding her up, he wasn't getting her into trouble with the boss, he wasn't bringing her an apology coffee or leaving an origami creation on her desk, he wasn't bothering her with the latest time record for completing a sudoku puzzle.

This was serious, wasn't it?

The ambulance wasn't here yet. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt weren't here yet. He was covered up to his elbows in Lisbon's blood that just didn't seem to stop escaping no matter how hard he pressed his jacket against it...this was bad.

This was really bad.

But it couldn't be the end, could it?

"It's ok, you're going to be fine. You hear me? You're going to be fine," he stumbled over his words, as much as he tried to convince her. She never usually believed anything he said anyway, why would she believe him now, when he was telling her she'd be fine when half her blood must have been surrounding her. But what else could he do? What could he do, say, to fix the situation? Anything? Nothing?

He looked over his shoulder, taking his eyes from her for just a second to collect himself. He felt his eyes burning and was hoping to prevent his tears from spilling over, mixing with the blood that was still rapidly escaping her, but that was proving hard. It was too familiar. Too much blood. Blood everywhere. Just like his wife and daughter. She was going to die with her blood surrounding her like they had done. The difference this time was that he was there - he was there to see her life slowly drain away from her. He was going to be there to see her breath fail her, her heart stop, and her eyes lose their light.

He couldn't lose her.

As he turned, his eyes fell on the figures of the rest of the team, who had appeared through the stairwell with shocked expressions upon seeing their boss bleeding out in Jane's arms. Their presence should have made him feel better, just like their assurances that the paramedics were on their way, but it didn't. The fear in Cho's eyes was frightening in itself, the usually composed man who rarely cracked a smile looked horrified as he looked at Lisbon's blood all over the hall, all over her, all over Jane. He feared the worse, Jane realised, as he looked back down at Lisbon, who was looking more disorientated than she had done only a few seconds before, and he understood why immediately.

They were already losing her.

"Patrick," she said, drawing out his name in a long exhale.

He shook his head, welling up with unwanted tears at the sound of her tiny, frail voice. Lisbon didn't sound tiny and frail. Lisbon sounded strong. Lisbon sounded sure and certain. Lisbon was losing a lot of blood, and he wasn't sure how much she had left. "Don't try to talk," he told her softly, unable to bear the possibility of losing somebody else. His eyes were pleading with her constantly to breath, to hold on...

"You have to get him," she managed to tell him, despite the pain it clearly caused her to speak. "He needs to be locked up, you have to-"

As always, she was focused on the crime rather than herself. That was just how she was, how she'd been raised from the age of twelve – think of others before yourself. She'd done it from her teenage years and it was one of the aspects of behaviour that she'd been able to transfer from her personal life to her professional one. It was in her nature.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her stubbornly, shaking his head.

"-Before he hurts anywhere else..." she trailed off. Jane's pounding heart almost stopped when her eyelids started to flutter closed. However, she simply coughed, rather wheezily and resumed her pleading. "Don't let him hurt anyone else..."

"I'm not leaving you," he told her.

"You have to stop him-"

"No, I'm not going anywhere," he repeated.

She tried a smile, but it was more of a grimace, a sweet smile he wasn't sure she could give in this dire situation. "You care too much," she coughed out.

"I care just right," he told her.

"You love me," she stated.

The thumb on her cheek stopped it's stroking, but he nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."

At that, the tears started spilling out. He didn't care whether or not he looked ridiculous. She could be dying. She knew she could by dying, and she was asking him to leave her side to catch a criminal they'd probably still get the next day, after correctly guessing that he did love her. Without her, what was the use in fighting anymore? He wasn't ready to lose her yet. He needed her to stay with him. He hadn't realised how strongly he felt about her until her blood started soaking into his shirt and he realised that he could lose her. He needed to see her eyes, no matter how much pain they were filled with. He needed her to be alive. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not with so much behind them, and so much left unsaid, unexplored. She'd just figured out that he loved her.

Then he felt hands over his – Cho's hands, taking over the pressure on Lisbon's wounds. Jane found his hands were free. Instantly, he placed one hand on her cheek, ignoring the smear of blood it transferred to her skin. The other arm continued to cradle her head. "Teresa, please, just stay with me," he urged her – she'd realised he loved her, that gave him free reign over first names.

"It hurts," she told him in a pitiful voice that wasn't her own. "Too much...I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he told her, fully aware that he didn't sound too convincing to anyone when he had tears streaming down his cheeks in a steady flow. He didn't know much time they had left. The paramedics wouldn't be here in time. It could all be over in minutes, seconds even, it might already be too late, there was so much blood... "You have to. Don't leave me, okay?"

She gave him a tired, weak expression. "I guess I love you too," she said, as if continuing the previous conversation.

"You're going to be okay," he told her, horrified to hear the goodbye she was putting into her voice. It was bad enough that his own hope was fading, let alone hers. "Please, stay with me. Hold on."

"I'll try," she said, as strongly as she could.

He started to wonder what he was asking her to hold on for – the paramedics that hadn't arrived yet? A miracle? If he knew he could make it, he'd have got on his feet and carried her to a hospital, but he knew that he couldn't. That's why she knew it was too much to fight this. They both knew, because she wasn't going to make it through this. She'd been fighting for so long, and now there was no fight left inside of her; at least, not enough to fight off death.

Jack held her fast against him, blocking out everything around them. She didn't have to see that Cho and Rigsby were pressing hard on her abdomen, trying in vain to stop her blood. Thankfully Grace wasn't there – the sight probably would have shocked her into labour. Yes, he was glad she was on maternity leave. He knew that her blood was now staining through his shirt, as he could feel the warm liquid against his stomach and chest, but he didn't look down to see it. He couldn't. His eyes were trained on her face. He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't, no matter how tempting it was to run so that he didn't have to see this. More tears formed, flowing over the ones that had already stained his cheeks, and if he wasn't biting his lip to prevent the lump in his throat from bursting, it would have engulfed him entirely. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. All he was managing to do was breath and hold her tightly in his arms. It was as if as long as he held her she wouldn't be able to leave him. He tried to come up with another solution, anything other than the finality of Lisbon bleeding out in his arms, but no matter how many ideas darted from the corners of his scrambled mind, nothing seemed logical enough to work.

Ignoring the presence of the team beside him, he dipped his head, gently kissing her trembling lips with his own. When he pulled back he made an attempt to sweep her hair from her face. Her brow furrowed every few seconds as she winced in pain from her injury, and he felt his heart start to break when a soft moan escaped her mouth. She'd lost too much blood now, surely?

"Just relax," he whispered to her, touching his face with a tenderness he thought he'd lost since his daughter was stolen from him. "Just think about tomorrow, ok? I'll buy you dinner. We can go to that nice place we saw on the ride back from Davis last week..."

He broke off when his voice got caught in his throat. He couldn't speak those words anymore, even to himself, not when the tomorrow he was promising was never going to happen. Her eyes drooped again and it was becoming more of a struggle to keep them open for her. It wouldn't be long now.

Lisbon smiled weakly. "That sounds nice," she whispered, only heard by Jane because he was so close. They stared into one another's eyes, fearful that the moment they looked away it would be over. Jane couldn't stop speaking to her, trying to assure that she would be ok, his words punctuated with Lisbon's whimpers and cries of pain as she clung to him as best she could. He couldn't lose her. Not now...

She was still beautiful, even with death creeping over her. Her eyes might have lost their glitter, but they were still inviting green oceans, compelling him to keep staring. She was still the woman he had, apparently, fallen in love with even when he swore he'd never love again.

He watched her grimace as another wave of pain hit her, and hit her hard. Her breathing worsened as her need for oxygen reached a critical level, her aching chest heaving several times in a vain attempt to fill her empty lungs. Jane could do nothing but watch her worriedly, telling her over and over again that he loved her, thinking back through his life to try and remember something that could have helped, but there was nothing.

And then it all stopped.

Any need for breath deserted her as her chest rose and fell for the last time – the final time. The cries stopped, the frantic whimpers stopped, the movement stopped...

"Lis...Lisbon?" he asked, frowning slightly. He tried to think of another explanation for why she had fallen so still, why Cho was shouting frantically at somebody but a large lump in his throat told him the simple truth. She wasn't breathing, she wasn't moving, she wasn't whimpering...because she wasn't breathing.

But if she wasn't breathing...then she was...

"No, no...please, Lisbon," he pleaded over her hauntingly unmoving body. "Lisbon, wake up. Come on, Teresa, open your eyes. Breathe. You can do it."

Lisbon had stopped breathing. She was lying in his arms. Not moving. Not breathing.

She was never going to wake up again. He'd never get to tell her properly how he felt, rather than have her guess while blood poured from her. He should have realised sooner, he'd wasted so much time, and now he wouldn't get another chance. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so focused on his first attempt at starting a life for himself that he'd failed to see his second opportunity?

She was so still, her arms draped over her chest in the position they had fallen still in. She was deathly pale, but she didn't look...dead. She didn't look like his wife and daughter had when he found them. She looked like she was sleeping. His pressed his lips to hers again, clinging to the fairytale hope that this might wake her up, but already her lips were cold and unfamiliar, and they didn't warm no matter how long he lingered there, begging against her chilling skin for her to wake up.

Then there were hands pulling at him, tugging her unresponsive body away from him. He fought against the movement, trying to keep her in his arms, until Rigsby's reassuring voice was beside him, telling him that it was the paramedics who were taking her. Paramedics were good. Paramedics were doctors. Doctors could save her, right? She could be saved? Someone could still save her? As Lisbon's body was taken from him, Rigsby raised Jane to his feet, steering the consultant a little down the hall, away from the sight of four paramedics descending on Lisbon's body. He made sure that Jane's back was too them, so that he couldn't see the efforts they were taking to revive her. It would only break him.

"Jane," he said softly. "Jane, look at me."

"Teresa..." he whispered back under his breath, trying to turn his head and see her.

Rigsby forced his head to keep facing him. "She'll be fine," he told him firmly.

"She-she-she stopped breathing," he stuttered, as if he was processing the meaning in the back of his mind. "She's...she stopped breathing...that means she's-"

"She's breathing!" one of the paramedics called out, right on cue before Jane could say the word 'dead'. "Let's get her into the ER, no one touches that bullet until we've got her into trauma."

"I'm coming," Jane told them, stumbling away from the others and heading towards them,

One of the paramedics stood, holding out a hand. "Sorry, sir, you'll have to meet us there."

He looked panicked at this, the thought of not being at her side overwhelming him. "No," he insisted. "No, I'm not leaving her."

"Let them work, Jane," Cho instructed lightly.

"I'm not leaving her!" he shouted back, even though none of the paramedics were listening or waiting for him. They simply lifted Lisbon onto a stretcher and started to get her to the roof level where the others guessed they had a chopper waiting to transport them to the hospital.

Cho stared Jane down, taking charge in Lisbon's absence and ignoring the fact that Jane had just screamed in his face. "There's nothing you can do now, Jane," he pointed out. "They'll take care of her."

"Come on," Rigsby said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him to the stairwell. "We'll leave now and meet them at the hospital."

Before he could lead him anywhere, however, Jane bowed his head, allowing it to rest on Rigsby's shoulder. The burning sensation returning and the thick lump choking up his throat followed it. He felt his own strength, which had been wavering from the second he watched Lisbon get hit, start to disappear completely. He tried to control his breathing as everything began to overwhelm him but it was only a matter of seconds before his exhausted, terrified breaths turned into sobs. Once they had started, there was no way to stop them, even knowing that the person he was crying for was breathing again. Nothing had hurt him this much in a long time, not since he'd seen that smiley face on his daughters bedroom wall.

"She'll be fine," Rigsby told him softly, clapping him on the back and not mentioning how awkward the moment was.

"It can't end like this," he half-whined.

"It won't," he assured him firmly. He looked up at him, trying to recompose himself. "Come on, let's get to the hospital. They'll tell us what's going on."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Let me know what you think


	2. Chapter 2

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter Two**

Considering the nature of their jobs, it was a wonder that they didn't recognise every member of the medical personnel within the walls of Sutter General Hospital. However, as countless floods of nurses and interns scurried past the suffering families, Jane couldn't place a single face. He was usually good with names and faces, but he didn't even recognise anyone. Then again, every time they had needed to go to the emergency room they'd ended up going to wherever was closest. Now, they were at Sutter General, but they'd been at Mercy General four weeks ago with Jane's latest concussion, Shriners Children's Hospital two weeks before when one of their suspects had attacked a child and they needed a statement. Other than when it was absolutely necessary, they all tended to avoid the building as much as possible. 'Absolutely necessary' had been more frequent recently, however, thanks to the amount of civilians who had been insulted by Jane and retaliated, then Grace had a few scares through her pregnancy which had lead to Rigsby and herself taking many trips to the nearest emergency room.

Lisbon had been taken into the trauma wing now, a place where they had no right to be, so the head nurse had rather forcefully told them. Trauma one. That's where they took the most severe injuries, he supposed. But when they'd told him where she was, they'd informed him he could only wait in the family area, and Cho had flashed his badge they had given him all the information into her current condition they possibly could – apparently the bullet was in an awkward position and they were doing all they could.

Cho's new appreciation for breaking the speed limit had gotten them to the hospital at the same time as the hospital. The amount of EMT's surrounding her gurney had been more than a little worrying, considering one of them was stalling the bleeding, another was keeping her breathing, and the other two...well, Jane didn't actually know what they'd been doing but he was sure it was something to save her, right? Save her. The words kept repeating in his head on a loop, constantly reminding him just how close he was to losing her.

"_Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI. Thirty-one years old. GSW to the torso."_

"_God, there's blood everywhere. She's lost a lot. Pulse?"_

"_It's faint. Very faint, but it's still there."_

"_Okay, get her cleaned up and prepped for surgery. Work fast, people, or we're going to lose her."_

It was as if they hadn't realised that Jane, Cho and Rigsby were within hearing distance of the conversation.

A while later, it was only Cho and Jane, the two of them seated on the ground opposite the doors that no one would allow them to pass through. There were plenty of empty chairs down the hall in the family area, but Jane hadn't bothered to seek them out. After they had taken Lisbon into trauma and he had found out – the hard way – that he wasn't allowed to follow her, he had simply leant against the wall and collapsed to the ground rather slowly from there. Lisbon had still been unconscious when they took her through, and getting a glimpse of her ever-paling face beneath all the blood was an image that was starting to replace the original looped memory of her eyelids fluttering closed in his arms. However, the new image was tainted with so much blood that it was merging horribly with the image he had from discovering his wife and daughters bodies years ago.

No words were exchanged between the two men, but Jane was glad not to be left alone, regardless. As much as he wanted to be at Lisbon's side he knew that if he went into the trauma ward he'd only end up interrupting whatever they were doing to save her life, and if he interrupted that he might not get her back at all. At least Cho would stop him from doing something ridiculous, although he didn't think that was realistic at the moment; the shock of seeing Lisbon on the gurney had bought him to his knees in the corridor and he still wasn't feeling any response from his limbs, so he was powerless to do anything other than panic. He wasn't sure when Cho moved, but he noticed him sitting back down beside him, two pathetic paper cups filled with steaming liquid in his hands. One coffee, one tea, the first for Cho and the latter for himself. Jane didn't so much as look up at him, however, let alone accept the cup, but Cho put it down on the ground near his foot, knowing that it would at least be at a drinkable temperature for a while, also hoping that perhaps the scent of something other than the industrial cleaner smell of the hospital floor would jerk him out of his trance. He didn't hold out much hope, though, as it was clear that Jane was in a whole other world where all he could hear and see was Lisbon.

And then the cries had started.

Lisbon had regained consciousness and she didn't like whatever was happening. They had no idea what the doctors were doing to save her, but she was obviously protesting it, her cries and screams varying depending on whatever they were doing at the time. Neither of them had ever heard a sound like that come from Lisbon, but it was undeniably her. Though she would hardly ever admit to being afraid, Cho could barely imagine how frightening it must be for her; half-conscious, unaware of where she was or what was happening around her, but still protesting in indescribable pain as the bullet that desperately needed removing continued to plague her with pain.

And Jane was in just as much agony on the other side of the door from her, holding up as best he could whilst knowing that it was Lisbon, of all people, in that much pain and he wasn't able to do anything about it. It was several minutes before they sedated her – god knows why they waited so long – but when she clearly wasn't going to calm down there was no other choice. At that point her cries finally stopped, but until then Cho kept glancing at the look on Jane's face as the sounds of pain surrounded them. It seemed like someone was playing tug-of-war with his ears. There was a moment when her sobbed groans of pain had formed distinguishable words, some more understood than the rest.

"Stop it!"

"No!"

"Jane!"

When he heard her calling out his name, Jane had looked around him, as if wondering where the sound had come from. At that moment, Cho was sure that he was confused between memories of his wife and daughter, and Lisbon. But when he heard that voice, hearing Lisbon call his name in a sob before the sedation took over her, he had looked at Cho helplessly. Cho put his hand on his shoulder silently as Jane bowed his head, placing it in his hands and trying to breathe with some regularity.

Only minutes later the haunting white doors finally opened. Within seconds Jane and Cho were on their feet, making their way over to the gurney that was bought out from the trauma bay. They only got a quick glance before the surgeons moved on towards the surgical ward, but that one glance told them enough. She was still unconscious, only now from the sedation rather than pain and blood loss, and while Jane wanted nothing more than to see her eyes open after the way they had closed in his arms he knew that it was better for her to be sleeping right now. If she was sleeping then she wouldn't feel the pain, not until later when it would have dulled further. Her cheeks were no more coloured than when they had first taken her into the trauma bay, still the same white-grey colour they had dissolved to when he'd been holding her himself, but the blood had been wiped from where it had been spread and splattered all over her, the blood stained clothes cut away and replaced with a hospital gown in preparation for surgery.

One of the surgeons followed the gurney to the surgical ward as they lead her away, but another hung back and approached the pair waiting for her. Jane continued to stare after Lisbon, so Cho put his hand on his shoulder to attract his attention. "She's going to be okay, right?" he asked immediately, a break in his voice that betrayed the only semi-broken look on his face.

"We're taking Agent Lisbon into surgery to remove the bullet. Unfortunately it hit her in a position where any further movement could cause it to move, either into her lung or her kidney, both of which could cause catastrophic complications with the surgery," the doctor explained.

Unfortunately. Lung. Kidney. Catastrophic. Complications.

Those weren't good words, especially not in the same sentence as Lisbon's name. With all that had been hanging on his shoulders already, hearing this left Jane ready to break altogether. She had to be okay. He couldn't lose her, not now, not so soon. Aside from the fact that he loved her (something he still couldn't believe himself, but then again, you don't get a choice in who you fall for), she was the only person who'd ever been able to control him.

"Will the surgery work?" Cho asked, seeing as the movement of Jane's tongue seemed to have stopped completely.

"If we can get to the bullet before it moves and as long as there are no additional complications the surgery should go smoothly," he explained. "She's already lost a lot of blood so we're going to give her a transfusion so that her healing process will be quicker-"

"Just tell me that she's going to be okay," Jane begged, cutting the doctor off. "Please."

Cho looked at Jane, concerned not only for Lisbon but now for their consultant. This wasn't the same Jane teasing them, playing tricks, annoying the hell out of them – this was Jane as if he were dealing with the chaotic mess that Red John had left of his life. This was Jane fighting for life of Lisbon as he hadn't been able to do for his wife and child. He was reduced to nothing because of the mere possibility that Lisbon may not pull through from this and then he'd lose another person. The doctor looked at them both for a moment, a serious expression mixed with a moment of pity. "I'm sorry, sir, but the answer to that question depends on the outcome of the surgery."

"What?" he asked in disbelief. The man before him was a doctor – doctors were supposed to make promises like that, right? They were meant to achieve the impossible and keep people alive against all odds. They weren't meant to say '_sorry, we couldn't do it_'. By this point, he was fighting back tears, and while he really didn't want to break down on Cho as he had on Rigsby, the whites of his eyes were brimming with red. His voice was breaking dangerously as he spoke. "No, you don't understand," he explained to the doctor. "She _has _to be okay."

"There is still a chance, sir, even if it is a small one," the doctor assured him. "The surgery will be long, at least a few hours baring complications, so I would suggest that you take the opportunity to get some rest and call any family."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jane said quickly.

"We're staying," Cho nodded afterwards.

"I understand, I'll make sure you're kept informed," the doctor said, before he, too, went towards the surgical wing.

* * *

Rigsby opened up the door to his apartment with a sinking feeling in his stomach. While Cho was at the hospital he'd gone back to the office to make sure that any leads were followed up and all statements were taken so that they could catch whoever did this to Lisbon as soon as possible – only to find that it had been assigned to another team and they were halfway through the investigation already, so there wasn't anything he could do other than go home and change his shirt. He shifted his jacket around him further, doing up the zip because he knew that Grace would kill him if their four-year-old daughter saw the blood stain on his shirt from where he had been comforting Jane. There was no need to terrify Laila, especially when it was bad enough that he had to panic his heavily pregnant girlfriend.

The inside of their apartment was an instant escape from the day. It was only lunchtime, but his two girls seemed to have made a nice mess of the place. He knew that Grace appreciated maternity leave more with this pregnancy than she had with Laila's because they'd been able to have a break from a babysitter so she got to spend all day with their daughter. The dining table had a large bed sheet thrown over it, and the chairs had been pushed out a little to create a tent effect. In the corner of the room his laptop was being used to play some bubbly and bouncy Disney songs. He knew exactly which movies they were from, and which characters sang them, which he would have been ashamed of five years ago, but instead he was proud of now. From underneath the tent/table he heard a tiny giggle, and when he closed the front door behind him there was a chorus of "shh! Shh!", followed by more giggles.

He went over to the table, dropping to his knees and looking under the sheet. "Hello, ladies," he said, trying to make his tone sound bright.

"Daddy, we made a castle!" Laila told him, her voice filled with so much excitement that it was impossible to see any resemblance between her and her father – no, she was all her mothers daughter, with her blue eyes and her red hair. He'd been thrilled every time his daughter developed another trait of her mothers, knowing that there was no doubt their little girl would grow into a beautiful, sensible, and intelligent woman. Of course, there were times when she showed a little of her father, sometimes in the way she would look up at her mother with confusion, not quiet understanding the reasoning for eating absurd amounts of chocolate once a month, something that had increased since she fell pregnant for the second time.

"It's a beautiful castle," he praised her, noticing the littering of dolls and stuffed animals inside. "Do we have new toys?" he asked her.

Laila shook her head. "They're presents for my new sister," she told him proudly. "Uncle Pat bought them."

He managed to smile genuinely this time, looking at the stuffed animals in soft colours, noticing that the dolls weren't just Laila's Barbie's, but also some that a boy would appreciate. Of course, Jane had bought them. He'd been just as excited about Laila being born as himself and Grace had been. They were all a little worried when they announced the news "it's a girl", knowing that a part of Jane would react as usual around little girls - exstatically happy to be around them and join in their imaginative games, but as they got older there was always a longing in his mind, a wondering of how his little girl would have turned out. "Well, that's very nice of him. I'm sure your new sister _or brother_ will like them very much," he said, emphasising the part of the sentence that she usually tended to ignore. Laila just grinned with more elation, certain that the stork would deliver a baby sister for her. "Are you both princesses?" he asked, looking at Grace, who was sat cross-legged under the table, her fully-grown stomach cradled in her lap.

Laila shook her head. "I'm a princess and Mommy's a queen."

"Queen Mommy, huh?" he said, smiling at her.

Grace indicated to the paper crown on her head. "Queen Mommy is very pleased but very suspicious as to why King Daddy is home so early," she told him. Naturally, she wasn't stupid. He knew that pretending all was well wasn't going to work for very long, at all, really. Grace could read him almost as well, if not better, than Jane could. She knew him so well that it scared him. At least Jane had a reason for knowing absolutely anything about anyone, but Grace...she'd picked up on his behaviour, noticed his tiny rituals, and committed them all to memory just because she cared for him, and loved him.

"Princess Laila, sweetie, can I borrow Queen Mommy?" he asked his daughter.

She pouted and folded her arms. "But we're playing!" she argued. Interrupting play time was never fun. The only thing Laila would happily abandon her play time for was dinner, or the chance to move the play time outside.

"It's important Queen Mommy business," he explained.

Laila hugged. "Can't the guards do it?" she asked.

"No, the guards are fighting the dragon in Bathroom Land," he played along. "Queen Mommy needs to talk to King Daddy now."

Laila nodded her approval and turned to some of the dolls to join in her game. As she started humming to herself, Grace made the awkward manoeuvre of getting out from underneath the table. In the end, Wayne half lifted her to her feet. "You're back early," she repeated. "I was wondering whether you'd be back for dinner in a case like this, but lunch time?" she moved over to the couch and sat down more comfortably. She winced momentarily but then grinned as the child within her moved around before settling into a new position.

"Grace," he started, his voice more sombre than he realised it would be.

"Wayne, is that blood?" she asked, her playful manner gone instantly as she caught side of his chest, where the zipper of his coat had slipped down when helping her up. Her hands reached out for ominous red spot, eyes wide as she touched her fingers to it. Before she could touch enough for her hands to be tainted, he pulled her hand away, holding it in his own.

"It's not mine," he assured her quickly, easing her initial fear - after all, it perfectly explained why he was home early.

"Who's is it?" she asked.

He averted his gaze for a moment, ensuring that Laila was very much not listening to their conversation.

"Wayne, who's blood is that?" she asked again.

"We managed to trap Carlson on the top floor of an apartment block. Lisbon and Jane went upstairs and Cho and I waited at the exits. He got away, but he got another shot off first," he said softly.

"Who?" was all Grace whispered.

"Lisbon," he said.

"Oh god," she whispered in devastation. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Jane and Cho are up the hospital now. Cho just called and said she'd been taken into surgery, but it's touch and go at the moment."

Grace's eyes began to well up, his answer not the 'yes, she's fine' that she'd been hoping to hear. "Oh, _Wayne_..."

He placed his hand over hers before bringing her towards his shoulder for a hug she almost certainly wanted. "She'll be okay. She's strong."

"But what if she's _not_?" she asked. "You said it was touch and go, that means she might not be _okay_. We can't lose her. She's more than just a boss...she's my best friend, too. She's Laila's godmother...she's supposed to be my birth partner...and _Jane_..."

"Yeah, it turns out they're kinda in love with each other," he remembered. Grace looked up at him. "When we got up to them, he was trying to stop the bleeding and they were realising how they felt. It was..." he sighed. "Heartbreaking."

"What do we do?" she asked in a shuddering voice.

"We wait," he told her. She went to protest. "She'll be in surgery for a few more hours at least. I've already called the babysitter in case they need us up there later tonight. Until then, we wait."

"We should be there," she shook her head. "We should be there when she comes out of surgery. We're a team we should all be there together-"

"And Laila?" he asked, and she sighed. "Lisbon would kill us if we had Laila at the hospital waiting for her. Besides, if..." he trailed off, not wanting to say it, but knowing it needed to be said. "...if something goes wrong, she shouldn't be around everyone at the worst moment. She's too young, and she doesn't like hospitals as it is. It wouldn't be good for her. It'd only freak out Jane more if the woman he loves is hurt but there's a little girl around him too. We don't need to bring that back for him."

"God, Jane..." she whispered. "He'll think this is his fault."

"It wasn't,"

"You know what he's like, Wayne. Especially when it comes to women getting hurt." She almost rolled her eyes at the mere thought of how Jane usually reacted to the little things, but something as catastrophic as this? He'd be wallowing in self pity so much that the doctors were probably on the verge of sedating him just for some peace and quiet. "All we can do is wait?" she asked again.

Wayne nodded. "We wait," he confirmed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter 3**

Jane hadn't noticed how long they'd been waiting for news on Lisbon's condition until he noticed the position of the sun was blinding him through the window. The blood-red sun was dipping below the surrounding buildings, and a pinkish-orange sunset and a glance at his watch told him that Lisbon had been in surgery for over six hours. How long did it take to remove a bullet? The doctor had blatantly lied when he told them that they'd be kept informed about her surgery, because they hadn't seen any of the doctors who had been with Lisbon, let alone had anyone come over and update them. Just knowing where she was still alive would be a help. Once they had taken her down to the surgical ward he knew nothing other than that there were many different operating theatres and immediate recovery wards. He didn't know which of these she was in, but he knew that if he went deliberately searching for her he'd be forced away before he could even get near her.

At the moment he was pacing up and down helplessly, unable to do anything expect keep up the steady rhythm of his own feet. He knew that it was his own fault that he was so restless from sitting down for most of the morning and afternoon, waiting for news as he kept himself cramped up against the wall so much that, at times, he'd needed to move just because his limbs were starting to mould to the shape of the corner he was sitting in. But he knew that he needed to do something, anything, even if it was just walking up and down trying to come to a logical thought that didn't include a worst case scenario for Lisbon.

Wayne had, on his way home, taken the spare change of clothes that Jane kept at work to the hospital, knowing that he was covered in Lisbon's blood and that he'd have made no move to clean himself up. He'd changed into the clean clothes in a nearby bathroom, fingering the shirt that was doused in Lisbon's blood so furiously that it had even left a red stain against his chest. He'd taken some paper towel and scrubbed harshly at the skin until he couldn't be sure whether the red mark was from a blood stain or his attempt to remove several layers of skin. After that, he'd put on the new shirt and gone back to where Cho was waiting exactly where he'd been minutes before. By that time, he'd focused on the other waiting occupants around him, thinking of what they were waiting around for. He knew that the scolded boy with his father was waiting for his elder sister's broken arm to be fixed, more than likely because he'd "accidentally" pushed her off her bike. He knew that smiling elderly couple were waiting to hear if their daughter would be giving them a new grandson or granddaughter. He knew that the woman on her own, clutching her cell phone, was waiting to see her boyfriend would pull through a car accident. So many people waiting – so many in their own personal hell. Why should he be any different?

"How could I have been so careless?" he asked himself, shielding his eyes from the setting sun and shaking his head against the glare.

"You didn't know," Cho pointed out.

"I shouldn't have wound him up," Jane realised.

Cho looked at him, attempting to focus on something other than Jane's self-pity. "How long have you been in love with her?" he asked.

Jane just looked up at him, frowning.

"She was lying in your arms up there," he reminded him, watching Jane's eyes screw up at the memory, but he continued anyway. "She told you that you loved her, and then that she loved you. Then I took over from you and tried to stop the bleeding while you held her in your arms. You asked her not to leave you and then right before she got worse, you told her at least ten times that you loved her."

"She didn't think she could handle the pain..." Jane whined, too caught up in his own memory of the moment to fight against the ones that Cho was bringing back. "I told her she had to..."

"She told you that she _loved_ you, Jane," he reminded him again.

"She never said anything before," he admitted. "And she was in so much pain. I don't know if she even heard me."

"But you kissed her," Cho told him softly. "You showed her, at least."

"I can't lose her," he whimpered into his hands. "I should have said it sooner, but she..she looked so much like _them_," he admitted. "All that blood, and she looked so scared, so hurt...she looked like them, when I found them. And they didn't make it, by the time I got there it was too late. The paramedics tried to save them, but we were all too late. They tried, but...they didn't make it. I didn't get to see them again. Red John took them away from me, my _wife_ and my...my little girl, my _tiny_, _sweet_ baby...and I love them _so_ much, and I miss them, but Lisbon..._Teresa_..." he choked on her name. "She makes me feel happy again. She makes me feel happy even when I miss them...she's been showing me this whole time that I _can_ love again without stopping loving them...that I can love _her_...and I do...but she looked like...that blood...she looked like _them_...holding her, was like finding them all over again..."

* * *

Up until that moment, she hadn't been worried for herself. She'd been worried about Lisbon, going through life-saving surgery which they hadn't heard any news on. She'd been worried about Jane, sitting and waiting for any update on her condition. She'd been worried about Cho, having to hold him together. She'd been worried about Laila, oblivious to how badly injured her godmother was and how confused she'd been to be interrupted through her dinner by her panicked parents bundled into the back of the car. She'd been worried about Wayne, about the amount of stress he was under with trying to find out about Lisbon's condition as well as making sure that Laila was taken care of and that Grace had as much of his attention as he could possibly give her. But she'd never once been worried about herself. Not until Wayne came home from checking in with Cho at the hospital looking as exhausted as she expected him to, not until he had shaken his head, signalling no news, and she had gotten up from the couch to greet him and felt a horribly familiar tearing sensation rip through her stomach.

Through the seemingly endless trimesters, she'd not once been worried about the birth of her second child. She'd done it before, so she knew what pain to expect, she knew not to be optimistic about a short labour after Laila's thirty-two hour debut. They'd had their scares through the pregnancy, and those had worried her for the baby's sake, but they had come through that and she'd followed the doctors orders, taken her vitamins, eaten right, given up caffeine, she'd kept up with light exercise after her bed rest had been lifted. So no, she wasn't afraid of any complications. But when Laila had been born, though she'd been scared, she'd been surrounded. Jane and Cho had waited out in the hall, Jane regularly updating both sets of grandparents who were travelling down to Sacramento as quickly as they could once learning she'd gone into labour. In the room with her had been Wayne, more panicked than she had been, and Lisbon, who had stood beside her for the full thirty-two hours, assuring her that all the stomach cramps her periods had given her over the years were about to be made up for in the shape of their tiny baby. But this time...Cho and Jane would be in another corridor, waiting for the fate of their leader to be revealed. Lisbon wouldn't be at her side, and as much as it had been lovely to have Wayne at her side during the last birth, it had been Lisbon who had been her rock. Now, it was just her and Wayne.

She wasn't really having a baby now, was she?

* * *

Rigsby's appearance in the waiting area with his daughter was something that Cho and Jane hadn't been expecting. Laila was settled on his hip with her coat pulled on even though the waiting area was stiflingly hot. Apparently air condition didn't apply at night. She looked exhausted, but it was the panicked expression on her father's face that was clearly the reason for him being there.

"Uncle Pat!" she grinned, as Rigsby all but dropped his daughter into Jane's lap. He had no choice but to react and grab hold of the little girl.

"What's going on?" Cho asked.

"_Baby_," he said in a rushed tone. "Baby coming _now_."

"Now?" Cho repeated, groaning as if it were all a big inconvenience.

"Grace is in labour?" Jane asked.

"They've just admitted her, but the plan was that _you_ were going to watch Laila when the baby came," he reminded Jane. "So if you could do that, it'd be great," he hurried.

"Is Grace ok?" Cho asked, as Jane put his arms around Laila and settled comfortably with the tired girl.

"She's scared, she keeps saying that she won't have the baby without Lisbon there."

"What?" Cho frowned.

"Lisbon was going to be her birth partner again," Jane commented quietly. He ducked his head, his hands paused on Laila's coat zipper. She looked at her favourite 'uncle' with expectant, confused eyes. She had no idea what was happening, other than that she wasn't having dinner anymore. "Laila's fine with us," he said softly. "Grace needs you now."

"Thanks, man," Rigsby nodded.

"How are you holding up?" Cho asked him.

"I'm good," he lied blatantly. "I can't go back in with Grace for ten minutes until they get her all set up."

Cho got to his feet. "Coffee it is," he said, turning back to Jane. "Another tea?" Jane nodded. "Right."

Rigsby kissed his daughter goodbye, told her to be good, then disappeared with Cho. Laila looked at Jane, who had focused all of his attention on her. Yes, this was good, he decided. He'd promised to look after Laila while Grace was having the new baby, and he should stay good to his promise, and Laila would give him something to focus on, a reason not to freak out. "Where's mommy?" she asked, as he took off her coat and laid it on the empty chair nearby, taking a seat next to it.

He noticed the paper crown around her red braids and playing with it for a moment. "Did you play princesses with your mom today?" he asked her.

The distraction worked for a moment. "Yeah," she nodded. "I was Princess Laila, and Mommy was Queen Mommy, and then Daddy came home and he was King Daddy, _and_ we made a _big_ castle and there was a _dragon_ in the bathroom!"

"That sounds fun," he mused with a big, yet false, smile.

Laila played with one of her braids, looking around her. "This is the hop-sital," she said, pronouncing it wrong with some sense of dread.

"Yes, it is," he told her.

She frowned. "Why are we at the hop-sital, Uncle Pat?"

"Mommy's going to get your new brother or sister," he told her. "And we need to wait for someone else, too."

Laila shook her head. "No wait," she decided. "Don't like it here."

"Laila..."

"I wanna go _home_, Uncle Pat," she said, looking at him and pulling at his shirt collar.

He was caught between Laila's desperation to get out of the hospital and waiting for Lisbon's condition. He hoped that they would know soon and that they could compromise? He sighed, playing with the braid that she'd abandoned. "Laila, we can't go home yet," he told her. "We need to wait for Auntie Resa first."

Auntie Resa. He'd been amused at the nickname she'd been given when Laila had struggled to say 'Teresa' at such a young age. She'd commented the day after Laila gave it to her that her youngest brother used to call her Resa, and still did on occasion. It made her smile, so no one thought to teach Laila otherwise as she got older and more coherent with her speaking. Laila frowned at the mention of her name, realising that she'd seen everyone except for her favourite auntie. "Is Auntie Resa _here_?" she asked, looking around for her.

"Auntie Resa has gone to see the doctors for a bit," he told her. "She got a little bit hurt and they're making her all better now," he said, surely the biggest understatement of his life, but he wouldn't dare scare his goddaughter.

Laila pouted. "I don't _want_ her to be with the doctors," she complained. "I want Auntie Resa to come home with me _too_."

"I know, sweetie," he said softly, drawing her into his arms and settling comfortably in the chair. It was late, and she was ready for bed even though she was confused and scared. She drew her head onto his shoulder and cuddled up to him as he wrapped her up in his embrace. "I want her to come home with us too" he told her, his voice nothing more than a whisper now that they were so close. "But the doctors are going to make her all good as new," he assured her.

"Will they give her a band aid?" she asked innocently through a yawn. "Mommy gave me a band-aid when I hurt my arm."

"Yeah," he told her, stroking his hand up her back to try and tempt her into sleep. Long nights of babysitting had taught him that it worked. "That's right, that's exactly what they'll do. She just needs a band aid."

"And then kiss it better?" she asked again, her eyes drooping.

He nodded, kissing her forehead. "Yeah, we can kiss it better for her."

"M'tired," she announced.

He carefully took off her paper crown, placing it safely on top of her coat where it wouldn't get torn or crushed. "Go to sleep, Laila. I've got you."

"Love you, Uncle Pat," she told him.

He smiled, despite his sorrow. "Love you too, Laila."

"Love Mommy and Daddy," she said.

"Mommy and Daddy love you too," he assured her.

"Love my Cho," she said.

Her Cho. He belonged to her, in his eyes. She'd been calling him _My Cho_ since she'd learned how to pronounce the 'ch' at the start of his name. "Your Cho loves you too, he'll be back soon."

"Love my Auntie Resa," she whispered.

Patrick sighed, stroking her hair. "Yeah, Laila, I love her too," he whispered back. "Go to sleep, it will be better tomorrow," he tried to assure her.

* * *

Cho had stopped in to see Grace before she progressed too far in her labour, passed on all the news he knew of Lisbon to put her mind at ease that at least she knew as much as they did. He promised to go and tell her more as soon as possible. When he returned to the waiting area he saw Jane and Laila wrapped up together in a single chair, both of them fast asleep. It was almost nine o'clock now, and Lisbon had been in surgery for too long to warrant not worrying. He lifted Laila's coat from the chair he'd been sitting in, observing the paper crown for a moment before moving them over so he could reclaim the seat. As he did, one of Lisbon's surgeons came out from the trauma doors, finally, so he nudged Jane awake.

Jane's head snapped up, causing a crick in his neck to make its presence painfully known. He'd not been sleeping as much as trying to relax, Laila's baby breath on his neck making it easier than it had been before. Now, with Cho back at his side and a doctor heading towards them he stood quickly, turning to place Laila carefully down on the seats with her coat as a blanket and his own jacket as a pillow.

"Is she okay?" he asked the doctor quickly, almost stumbling over his words where he was speaking so quickly.

The doctor gave him a momentary smile, which alone gave them hope. "The good news is that Agent Lisbon made it through the surgery. We had a momentary complication when the bullet clipped her lung but we've managed to repair the tear and her body is so far responding well to the blood transfusion."

Jane sighed with relief, but Cho frowned. "You said the good news," he realised, "does that mean there's bad news?"

"After the bullet damaged her lung we had to work fast to keep oxygen in her blood stream, but as a result she was deprived of oxygen for a short while. Combining this with the stress of the surgery and the injury itself caused her to slip into a coma."

"A _coma_?" Jane paled.

"How soon will she come out of it?" Cho asked.

"It's hard to say," the doctor explained. "We expect it to be soon, though, as her brain function is very promising." He noticed the ashen expression on Jane's face and turned his focus to him. "Sir, the fact that Agent Lisbon is in a coma shouldn't be seen as a bad thing at this stage."

"Of course it's a bad thing!" he argued. "She should be ok! She should be _awake_!"

"Her body is simply taking time out to rest and heal," he explained to them. "If she were to wake immediately she would be in an immense amount of pain, the coma enables her body to heal enough to skip that part of the healing process."

Cho looked at Jane warily, unsure whether this news was going to have Jane burst into tears or attempt to hit the wall as he had done earlier. Instead, however, he did nothing. He simply took a deep breath to calm himself down and then closed his eyes, running his hands through his messy hair. "So when she wakes up...she'll be ok?" he asked.

The doctor nodded. "As long as she doesn't develop an infection in her stitches, we have no reason to expect any further complications and we're confident she will make a full recovery."

"So, she's ok?" Jane asked, needing to hear it again.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Jane crouched to the ground, his hands flying up to his face. This time, he held his hands there, wiping away all the anxiety that had built up throughout the day. She was ok. She was alive. She had survived. She was going to be fine. "Oh, thank god," he moaned. "She's alive. She's alive."

Cho looked at him, then to the doctor. "Can he see her?" he asked.

"She's in the ICU at the moment, providing there are no complications we'll be moving her into her own room in the morning."

Cho drew the doctor's attention down to the crouching man beside them, who was still mumbling into his hands. "This man loves that woman. He's sat here all day not even knowing if she's alive. He needs to see her, or he's going to drive us all insane."

"Of course," the doctor nodded instantly. "I'll alert the ICU and then I'll come back to escort you up there."

When he disappeared, Cho bent down to Jane's level. "She's ok," he repeated again.

"I know," Cho nodded. "She's up in the ICU for now, but the doctor will be back in a second and when he is, you're going to go with him to see her."

"I can see her?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, right now."

Jane sighed with relief until something triggered in his mind. "I said I'd watch Laila while Grace..."

"Never mind that," Cho told him. "I'll take her down to the family room by Grace's ward so she can lie down properly. I'll stay with her."

"Is Grace ok?" he asked, much more aware of everything else now that he'd been assured that Lisbon was alive.

"She's doing fine, everything progressing as normal. You just stay with Lisbon. She'll want you there when she wakes up."

Jane frowned, almost uncertain. "You think so?"

It wasn't like Jane to be uncertain about anything, especially something concerning Lisbon, but Cho humoured him anyway. "She wanted you there when she thought she was going to die," he pointed out, the words blunt but true, "She'd want you to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up."

Jane was about to reply, when the doctor came back over to them. "We're ready for you, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter 4**

The ICU was somewhere Jane hadn't been for a long time. He'd been here once a few years ago, waiting for a victim to recover enough to give a statement, only they'd never woken up again. Since then, no case had lead him to this part of a hospital, although that may have had something to do with his selective choice of which part of the case he would associate himself with. Cho had come upstairs with him, wanting to see for himself that Lisbon was ok. Laila was wrapped up in her coat on Cho's shoulder. Jane had attempted to carry her himself, but he had barely been able to lift her sleeping body from the chairs where he was trembling so much. He wasn't sure whether it was from relief, from the lack of food and drink through the most part of the day, or the fear of what he would discover in Lisbon's room. Either way, it had stopped him from lifting Laila without fear of waking her, so Cho had stepped in, taking the little girl effortlessly into his arms. Laila had put her head back on his shoulder, linked his arms around her neck with a whispered "My Cho" and then gone back to sleep without protest.

The doctor came to a halt outside room one. Jane was confused for a moment when they stopped, but when he realised that they had stopped because they gotten to Lisbon's room he felt the familiar, increased thumping within his chest. The doctor stood back, for him to approach the door and open it himself, but he froze in place. The last time he had approached a door with this much apprehension he'd found his family's mutilated bodies behind it. Lisbon had been in a bad way when he last saw her, he wasn't sure he was going to like what he'd see on the other side. He was sick of opening doors to bad sights.

"Jane," Cho prompted.

Cho's questioning tone startled him out of his small trance and he shook himself. It was Cho, however, who pushed the door open in his place. Jane stepped up to the doorway, but he never made it through the door.

Even though the room was large and there were so many monitors and tubes in the room that it should have frightened him, it wasn't the daunting medical equipment that instilled the familiar fear inside of him. Instead, it was the figure in the bed that made his heart pound. "Oh, Teresa," he whispered breathlessly. She was lying still, her arms draped over the blankets that shielded the bandages from her surgery. She was still deathly pale, despite the blood transfusion that was still hooked up to her arm. Her dark hair was spread around the white pillow beneath her like a halo of the darkness that had shaded so many years of her life, her fringe uneven as it had been swept to the side, so much so that it looked like she had never had the fringe added in. It was unnerving to see the tubes coming out of her arms, some draining fluid and others inserting it. There was an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth, making sure that she didn't stop breathing during her coma. He wasn't sure why that was there if she was fine. That didn't give him the impression that she was as ok as the doctor had told them she was.

"Don't be alarmed by the mask and the I.V's," the doctor told him. "It's all for precaution only."

But still, it was a precaution because there was a risk, and what was what alarmed him. From previous experience, he knew that people only told others not to be alarmed when there was a valid reason to be alarmed in the first place. Even though they assured him that Lisbon would be fine when she woke up, he realised that until she did wake up there was still a risk, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what these risks were – a risk that her stitches would tear? That the surgery would fail? More complications? Fever? Infection? A risk that she'd stop breathing?

A risk that she could still die?

A burning sensation behind his eyes caused him to blind strongly, and it was followed by a thick lump choking up his throat. He felt his own strength, which had been wavering for too many hours, start to disappear completely as he leaned sideways against the doorframe for support. As he did, he bowed his head down so that he couldn't see the tragic scene before him anymore, and he covered his eyes with his hand. He tried to control his breathing as it began to overwhelm him, determined not to lose control as he had done twice now, but it was hard. The day had been so long and painful that this was just the twist of the knife in his heart on top of it all. Sleep deprivation that had lasted from years automatically made him feel worse and his willingness to fight the weakness failed him. He'd not felt so helpless since he'd last walked into a bedroom with a pounding heart. Since he found them. He didn't care who told him that it wasn't his fault, Lisbon would never have been shot if he hadn't goaded Carlson into pulling his weapon.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when a firm hand came down on his shoulder, gentleness in its weight. He didn't have to turn to know that it was Cho, but he did anyway. "Look what I've done to her," he choked out.

"You didn't do this, Jane," Cho told him.

"_Look at her_!" he cried out, flinging his arm behind him. "She looks..." his eyes fell on Laila and he lowered his voice. "She looks like _they_ did," he croaked out. "She looks _dead_, Cho!"

Cho, however, didn't need to look at her. Not again. He'd already looked over Jane's shoulder and seen her lying there, lifeless if not for the steadily beeping monitors assuring them otherwise. "Get those thoughts out of your head," he told him, watching as Jane let out a frustrated sigh, still refusing to look at her again. Noticing this, Cho used the hand on his shoulder to physically turn him towards the room and forcing him to look at her. "Lisbon _isn't_ them," he reminded him. "You were there this time, ok? You were there, she got to the hospital in time and she's going to be ok because _you were there_ with her. If you're going to go in there and wake her up, you can't blur the lines. You can't think of her as them. She's _not_ Violet, she's _not_ Claire-" Jane looked shocked, having never heard the team mention his wife and daughter by name before, it wasn't how they spoke about them. "-She's _Lisbon_. Teresa. She loves you like they did, but she isn't them. Got it?"

Jane sniffed a little, a quiet sound that he tried to disguise. Obediently, he nodded and took a few shaky steps into the room, seeming to stumble a little like a lost child looking for shelter, only to be met with horror. It was almost as if he wanted to stay away, so that he couldn't see the damage his messing around had caused, but he knew in his heart that the right place to be was at her side. Cho watched as he entered, waiting in the doorway in case Jane had a lapse of judgement and tried to get back through the door. The doctor looked at the sleeping Laila in his arms. "Would you like me to show you the family room, sir?" he asked.

Cho wanted to make sure that Jane was aware of their leaving first, so he called into the room to tell him this. He simply nodded back, looking at Laila rather than the man holding her. Cho understood – he'd bought up Jane's family, and now Jane was looking at an injured woman, whom he loved, and a little girl he'd promised he'd watch...the similarities were almost cruel, but couldn't be helped. After that, Jane was completely oblivious to what was happening anywhere other than where Lisbon lay.

Slowly, he approached her bedside, and in a child-like way he half expected her to open her eyes, her beautiful eyes, and smile at him, momentarily glad to see him before she started berating him for staring at her, or making a fuss, or taking her to the hospital in the first place. He sat down on the chair at her bedside and took her limp hand in his, careful not to jostle any of the tubes and wires. The hand felt warm in his own, which comforted him more than he could describe. It wasn't cold like Violet's had been when he found her. She was warm. She wasn't cold like them. She was warm, she was very much alive. He squeezed her hand lightly, not too light but enough to let her know that he was there if she could feel him. He felt himself letting out a breath, unsure that he was even holding one to begin with, but as he released it he felt a constriction around his heart also disappearing. Now that he was beside her, rather than on the other side of the room, he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest whilst she breathed through the oxygen mask – it wasn't synthetic, she was breathing on her own.

Yes, she was very much alive.

* * *

The following morning, Jane raised his head from the mattress. Groaning, he ran his hand over his face. The familiar ache in the back of his head resurfaced and he knew why instantly – he hadn't slept more than an hour. Even though he had rested, true enough, by closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of Lisbon's heart monitor, he hadn't slept. He'd laid there for hours, waiting, begging for sleep to take him far, far away, but it never did. Instead, whenever the desperation of sleep fought against him and his eyelids began drooping, he would lean against the edge of the mattress, much as he had done a few hours ago. Supporting his head with one arm he would keep the other locked around Lisbon's hand. Part of him felt like he was abandoning, forcing her to fight this coma alone, were he to release her hand. He didn't leave her side for anything other than something he couldn't control – like a bathroom break. Yet, the nagging fear that he wouldn't be there when she woke up had him racing back to her bedside, his heart falling every time when he saw that nothing had changed.

The nurses walked in every hour to check her vitals, and even though they continued to reassure Jane that she was making progress he still had a nagging feeling that they suspected her stability could disappear at any moment – why else would they be checking every hour? However, it was the same monotonous routine every time; they would come in, greet Jane, ask if there was any movement, check for themselves even though Jane would tell them that there wasn't, make their notes, ask if there was anything they could get for Jane, and when he declined their offers they would leave.

Lisbon was not as pale this morning as she had been last night, thanks to a second blood transfusion overnight, but she was still painfully unresponsive, her with arms draped over the blankets and one of her hands always loosely wrapped between Jane's fingers. In the small hours of the morning he'd found himself talking to her a lot until his voice wore thin because of the constant chatter, despite the lack of response. When she didn't reply, or tell him to shut up and let her get some sleep, he felt himself slipping further and further away from the nurses who now came in to check on the both of them, not just Lisbon. At least with Lisbon they could medically help her, but there was only so much they could do to help Jane when he was falling into himself.

* * *

Rigsby was sat in the corridor outside the delivery suites. The chair underneath him felt almost alien to him. He was more collapsed into it than sitting, but still able to let his weight rest in the plastic shape. Everything was working on autopilot at the moment. His body, physically, was in the corridor, but his mind and thoughts were on the other side of the door with Grace. Leaning forward in the chair, he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped into his head into his hands, pressing the balls of his palms into his eyes, he tried not to pay attention from the occasional screaming from Grace's contractions. The closed door wasn't sound proof, and not only was he suffering because she was suffering, but because he wasn't allowed to be there with her and they both knew that he was only outside...so close, yet so far away.

He couldn't understand why this was happening. Not her. Not to Grace. _His_ Grace. There shouldn't have to be any complications with her or their baby. After all, Laila's pregnancy and birth had been easy, if not long. They'd worried themselves through Laila's birth because it was a new experience for the both of them, but looking back on it now it had been incredibly easy in comparison. Grace's contractions had started in the early hours of the morning, her water had broken outside the hospital, and thirty-two hours later, as the sun was setting on December 1st, little Laila had been placed in her father's arms for the first time. But not this time. This time, he'd been forced away from her because her labour was taking too long, wasn't progressing fast enough and the baby was in danger. That's all they'd explained to him before they'd removed him from the room. Why wouldn't they explain it in more depth to him? Because he wasn't sure they could. All they knew was that the baby was in distress. That was all they could tell him. Of course, they hadn't told Grace that in case it added any stress that would put her and the baby in more danger, but it was surely distressing enough to see Wayne being asked to leave the room.

"Rigsby!"

The sound of his name came from further down the corridor. He looked up, remained seated and only lifted his head with a mild enthusiasm. He didn't regret calling this arrival for help, for comfort, for answers, and he'd had no doubt that he'd come. "You're here," he said simply. There were no 'where were you?'s or 'what took you so long?'s.

"How's Grace?" his friend asked.

Rigsby turned his head towards the closed door. "She's still in there. They won't let me stay."

"Why not?"

He looked at his companion with a broken gaze. "The baby's in distress, something to do with the labour not moving quickly enough. From here on out the longer it takes, the more dangerous it gets for Grace and the baby. They might have to do an emergency C-section," he sighed. "I didn't mean to have to call you away, but I couldn't have Laila here anymore, not when this is happening, so Cho took her home and I just..."

"Couldn't wait alone," Jane finished for him.

He nodded. "Thank you for being here."

Jane nodded, even through his own exhaustion. "You're welcome, Wayne."

And together they sat, they waited, and they prayed. They sat for company, drinking coffee and tea in excessive amounts. They waited for news on the conditions of the women they loved. But most of all they prayed that all three of the lives at stake would be safe and sound as quickly as possible.

* * *

After sitting with Rigsby for five minutes, Jane had beaten his own personal record. Length of time spent away from Lisbon's side: five minutes and ten seconds. He'd had to move though. Rigsby's call had been short, abrupt, but pleading. He needed someone, Jane was closest, and Jane was who he requested, so he'd placed a kiss to Lisbon's cheek and then immediately left to go to his side. As they sat outside the delivery suites, he realised that although there wasn't entirely nothing he could do for Lisbon (he counted being close and talking to her as helping), he could help other people at the moment.

Half an hour later, they were still sitting helplessly in their chairs. Jane had gotten the latest round of hot drinks, just as Cho had done for him when they had been waiting for news on Lisbon's condition. Rigsby hadn't taken the tea, though. He just put it beside him on the table of magazines and continued to stare at his hands. Jane drank the tea he bought for himself, however, because it was the closest thing he would get to a breakfast. Soon after this, one of the obstetricians came out of the delivery suite. Rigsby noticed and shot to his feet immediately.

"Mr Rigsby," he approached.

"Agent Rigsby," Jane corrected. Rigsby gave him a curious side glance, but said nothing. Jane just shrugged in response.

Rigsby turned back to the doctor. "Can I see my girlfriend now?" he asked, his voice hoarse, and it was clear in that moment, to Jane at least, that he had been fighting back an overwhelming emotion for some time now. He recognised the break as one he'd tried to hide in his own voice.

"In a moment, yes," she told him.

"Is she ok? Is the baby ok?"

She didn't answer him direction, but did offer some explanation. "We were preparing for an emergency C-section, but the labour has got back on track so we're going to proceed with the natural birth, and Miss Van Pelt is happy to go ahead in this manner."

Rigsby, however, seemed reluctant. "And they'll both be ok if you do that?" he asked.

She nodded. "As long as there are no more delays in the labour, all will be fine. She has asked for you to come back into the room, however."

"Of course," he nodded quickly.

And as quickly as Jane had been called into the hallway, Jane found himself alone in it.

* * *

"Okay, Grace, you can start pushing with the next contraction," the midwife announced.

Grace looked at the woman in disbelief, before wondering where on earth the extra energy needed to push was going to come from. With Laila, she'd been so determined for the pain to end that she'd somehow found a burst of energy, but with the complications surrounding this baby's labour so far she wasn't sure there was any more energy to find. What she wouldn't give for a nice caffienated coffee right now. At least they had let Wayne come back into the room, and he stood at her side with one of his arms supporting her back as she sat up, the other firmly gripping the hand that she clutched at him with. Her own free hand was braced against the opposite side of the bed, digging her fingernails into the side of it every time a contraction hit her. Her red hair was falling out from the rushed braid it had been pulled up in, sticking to the warm sheen of swear covering her skin. No matter how many times Wayne cooled her with a compress she felt as if she were burning up to the point of no return, her usually alabaster skin was almost bright red from the straight of labour. Did she feel attractive at that moment? Definitely not. But she remembered this part well, she'd only felt this achy, this tired, this warm, and this unattractive once before – it was time to push.

"This is going to hurt," she realised with a groan.

"It's ok, Grace, you'll do great," Wayne assured her, kissing the side of her head.

She turned to face him, a sudden panic on her eyes. "What if something else goes wrong?"

"It won't," he assured her.

"But what if it does? What if something happens to the baby?"

"Grace, listen to me," he instructed calmly. "I know you're scared about the baby, and about Lisbon, and I know you wanted her here as well, but we're going to do this together, ok? Me, you and our baby? Think about _that_. Think about our new addition, the next step to our big family...think about how good it felt to hold Laila for the first time and how good it's going to feel when you hold our new baby soon...think about having a beautiful little gift to give Lisbon when she wakes up. Think about that, ok?"

The images he was putting in her head caused her to nod, her usual determination set on her face. "Ok."

Anxiously awaiting the inevitable pain, she realised that this was it. It was happening, and it was happening now. Soon, their second child would be taking its first lone breathes, and she would no longer be carrying it inside of her. She would be able to hold her baby properly, see them open their tiny eyes, ear their cries, be able to calm them. She would be able to meet their little baby. It was this thought, the same thought she'd had almost five years ago with Laila, that gave her the strength to make the first push when the next contraction hit her...and the second...and the third...feeling the baby move inside of her was a pain that she couldn't believe she'd forgotten, and she didn't hesitate to vocally show her displease with the pain. The midwives, Wayne and the head obstetrician all helped her through it, but she ignored everyone except for Wayne. At the end of the day, it only mattered that he was there with her, there to see their child into the world.

When the fourth contraction faded, she collapsed back onto the mattress, stopping only when Wayne's arm kept her upright. "Keep it up, Grace, you're doing great."

"God, it _really_ hurts," she groaned, her eyes screwed up from the pain.

Her next contraction came, and Grace pushed once more. "I can see the head, Grace, keep going," the midwife told her.

"See, Grace!" Wayne grinned. "It's almost over, you're nearly there."

"One more push," the midwife confirmed.

Grace took a deep breath and nodded. "One more."

"One more," Wayne repeated, gripping her hand tighter.

One more was enough, and moments later the sounds of Grace's pain was replaced with another sound, a sound so innocent and beautiful that it could only be the first cry of a newborn baby. Wayne grinned as he looked towards the cry, seeing a glimpse of his child being wrapped into a blanket and being whisked away for cheeks. However, he managed to see a glimpse of the child's face. "You hear that, Grace?" he said, almost jumping with excitement. "That's our baby."

* * *

Wayne left the delivery suite and went into the hall, ready to ring the grandparents and let them know the news. He was a little surprised to see Jane still sitting there with his tea, having expected him to go immediately back to Lisbon's side, but he was still there, waiting patiently. "I assume good news, from the size of your smile?" Jane asked.

Wayne nodded. "Everything's perfect. Mother and baby are doing great. Grace is being taken up to a ward, she's pretty exhausted so she's getting some sleep. She got to hold the baby first, because I got to hold Laila first, so she's over the moon. They took the baby before we could, though, to make sure everything was ok with the complications, but everything's great. Perfectly healthy, ten fingers, ten toes...and one penis."

"A penis?" Jane repeated.

"A penis," he nodded.

Both men were silent for a moment, then both grinned and Jane took the man in a hug. "The Rigsby family name will continue after all," Jane smiled.

"You uh...you wanna see him?" Rigsby asked hesitantly. "I understand if you want to get back to Lisbon, but..."

"No, I'd _love_ to see him," Jane cut him off with a smile. "Besides, Teresa would never forgive me if I didn't visit her godson when he was born."

"_Your_ godson too," he reminded Jane.

At this, Jane continued to smile. "Yes, but I'm not going to kick my own ass _quite_ as badly as Teresa would," he reminded Rigsby.

The baby boy was still on his own, away from the rest of the babies in the nursery while the nurses finished their tests. They entered the area to see the nurse standing over the new baby, who was lying on his back inside one of the clear plastic cradles, a blue blanket folded at the base of the cradle as a statement of "_yes, I'm a boy, I have a penis and my Daddy's surname will live on"._ He'd already been changed into one of the plain white sleep suits that Grace had packed for him. On his write was a tiny I.D. tag reading 'Baby Van Pelt-Rigsby' as they had yet to name the boy. That would change as soon as the name had been recorded. If Laila's name was anything to go by, they would drop Grace's surname, even though the pair were yet to marry, or even get engaged. Wayne had proposed during both pregnancies, but Grace insisted each time that she'd always wanted her children at her wedding, so they had agreed to wait.

Wayne stood over his son as the nurses finished their tests and allowed him closer, immediately smiling at the little boy and stroking his head. The boy wasn't crying anymore as he was sleeping, yet even in his slumber he sought out the owner of the hand, finding his father's palm with familiarity as he had held him minutes before. Wayne smiled deeper, allowing his son to hold tight to his little finger.

"He looks a lot like his father," Jane noticed immediately. "The eyes will be the same as Grace and Laila's, if the eyebrow line is anything to go by. He'll be the image of you, with his mother's eyes."

"Perfect eyes," Wayne whispered. He kept his eyes on the baby, watching the new life before him. He was as transfixed by the sleeping boy as he had been by his daughter when she was born. "That's my _son_," he whispered in awe, never drawing his eyes away from the child.

"Sure is," Jane confirmed.

And they stood there, watching the sleeping breaths of Baby Van Pelt-Rigsby, 5lb 6oz, Jane couldn't help but miss Lisbon's presence more than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter 5**

Later that afternoon, Jane was joined in Lisbon's room by Rigsby, who was pushing Grace in a wheelchair and holding the baby boy in her arms. They still hadn't agreed on a name for the boy, but Jane lit up slightly at the sight of the youngster. "What are you doing out of bed?" Jane asked Grace.

The nurse that had followed them came up with a vase of yellow roses. "I've been swamped with flowers from our families in my room," Grace explained. "I wanted Teresa to have some."

Jane nodded to himself, taking the vase from the nurse and placing it beside Lisbon's bed. "She likes yellow roses," he said softly, before turning back to Grace. "How are you feeling?" he asked her, kissing her cheek. "And congratulations on your beautiful boy."

"Thank you," she smiled, "and I'm feeling extremely happy, if not a bit sore."

"I take it Laila isn't too happy at the lack of a sister?" he assumed.

"She wasn't at first, but she's coming around to the idea," Wayne smiled. "Now she's realised that we can go shopping for blue things, she was happy enough."

"Is there any improvement?" Grace asked, as Rigsby wheeled her up to the bedside so she could take one of Lisbon's hands.

Jane shook his head, the same notion he repeated every time someone asked him that question. He hated that this was always his answer. He wanted to be able to say that there had been a change, but he couldn't. He wanted to see her awake again. He wanted to see her smiling. He'd not yet had the privilege of holding her in his arms without her bleeding from a bullet wound, and he wanted to experience that. He even missed their arguing, the petty disagreements, the scowl on her face, the dangerous warning glare whenever they handled a Red John case. He'd rather live through their worst arguments together than see her like this for another second.

"They said she's still sleeping pretty deeply, that it might be a few days before we can expect any change," he told them.

Grace looked at the dishevelled man at Lisbon's side. It was no secret that he had yet to leave the hospital, but that hadn't surprised her. Spending time with Wayne and their new baby down in the nursery had been good for him, as it had given him something to focus on other than the gloom of Lisbon's unchanging condition. He'd had a reason to smile, a reason to be happy, if only for a while. Grace knew that he'd spent over an hour up in the nursery with the new baby, the two men watching the new life sleeping, and watching through the window after the nurses had moved him into the main room with the rest of the newborns. She also knew that both men had almost matching photographs on their cell phones of the new baby – but the second he had returned to Lisbon's side, the exhaustion and the dismay had been evident again.

His hair was messed, and in places it was even standing on ends from the amount of times he had run his fingers through it in frustration. He needed a shower, definitely, even though he had changed out of the shirt that had been covered in Lisbon's blood. Grace almost winced at the memory of Wayne's shirt when he'd arrived home – there had been a lot of blood on it, and that was just what had transferred from Jane's clothing to his. She could only imagine the state that Jane's shirt had been in. The bags underneath his eyes looked so deep in his skin that they might have been fit to stay. Yes, these were the eyes of a man who was already too haunted to sleep, and now had more nightmares to add to the terrors of slumber. The only thing that hadn't faded from Jane's usual demeanour was the glimmer of constant hope that continued to flicker as he watched Lisbon sleep.

"Jane, you need to get out of here," Grace told him softly.

Jane looked back to her, his face a picture of confusion. "Why? I'm fine."

"You're no help to her in this state," Grace pointed out.

He frowned, shaking his head and taking Lisbon's hand. "I've just been through this with the nurses," he told them, as he stroked Lisbon's palm unseen by them. "I'm not going _anywhere_."

"Go home," Wayne told him, backing his girlfriend up. "Laila wants to come and see the new baby, she's with Cho at the moment. Go home, get something to eat, get some sleep, then bring Laila back with you." Jane's eyes flickered away from Lisbon when his goddaughter's name was mentioned – it was a low blow by Wayne, because he knew that Jane couldn't resist anything from the little girl. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Laila, because I just promised her you'd go and get her, and I'm not having her get in a car with you if you're about to pass out on your feet."

Despite the pull that Laila had over him, however, Jane shook his head, running his fingers through his hair again. "I have to be here," he said quietly.

"An _hour_," Grace reasoned. "Just get out of here for one hour."

He shook his head again. "I'm not leaving her," he insisted, his voice full of emotion.

"Jane-"

"You don't understand, I _have_ to be here when she wakes up!" he said sharply to Wayne, still trying to control himself, but found himself constantly battling the vengeful side of him that was usually reserved for Red John, but was now focused on whoever had shot Lisbon. He'd spent enough time away from her today, going to see the new baby, so he'd had the break everyone insisted that he needed. Why couldn't anyone understand that he had to be there?

"She won't be alone," Grace offered. "We'll stay."

He sighed heavily, dipping his head a little. "Grace..."

"Any change, Wayne will call you," she assured.

Jane looked back to Lisbon, wondering what she would say if she were awake. Internally, he laughed, he knew exactly what she'd say. She'd chide him for hovering, claim that his constant presence was irritating her and interfering with her ability to heal (it would have been a lie, that last one, but she'd still have said it). She'd tell him how ridiculous he looked and that he was worrying over nothing. She'd force him away until he was back on his feet, rested enough to properly deal with the situation at hand. She'd make him take care of himself, just like everyone else was doing. God, Grace had given birth less than twelve hours ago and she was there telling him to take care of himself. It was just different when Lisbon was telling him. He knew that when she told him, she wasn't just saying it for the good of the job. On some level, hidden by her insisted anger towards him, she'd always been taking care of him, and now it was his turn to take care of her. But to do that, he needed to do what everyone was telling him to do and leave the room.

"Okay," he decided, standing up from the seat which was nowhere near as comfortable as his couch. He looked down at Lisbon, still holding her hand in his. He squeezed it tightly and leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered, brushing against her skin as he spoke. "I'll be right back, Teresa," he whispered quietly, his heart dropping heavily when she didn't respond to the caress of his lips. So much for the Sleeping Beauty plan he'd been considering for the past thirty-three minutes. Giving her hand one last squeeze, he turned and faced the others. Just as he had done with Lisbon, he gave a small kiss to Grace and one on the top of the new baby's head. Then he lifted his head, facing them; "His middle name," he announced, "it should be his father's name."

And then he left the room. He didn't turn back. If he'd turned back, he'd see Lisbon. And if he saw Lisbon, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to leave her.

* * *

Jane lifted Laila up onto his hip, showing her the rows of babies in their plastic cribs through the glass. He gazed over through all the surnames on the front of the cribs, each written on a card with whatever sex the baby was. Blue, Crossman...pink, Bailey...pink, Matthews...blue, Greenwood...

He'd gone to his couch at the office, where Cho had been waiting for him with Laila. For a while, he tried his best to sleep, really sleep, but it was no use. He kept seeing that image of Lisbon, right when she realised what had happened and really started to get scared, and it bought reality screaming back to him. He lay still, however, and closed his eyes, so that at least Cho could confirm that he had tried. He was just to surrender and go back to the hospital when a weight slipped across his chest, and he didn't need to open his eyes to know that Laila had just crawled into the space between him and the couch, and soon enough her own tiny breaths signalled that she was taking a nap.

...blue, Webber...pink, Richardson...blue, Johnson...where was the baby? Surely he was too young to be playing hide and seek?

Wayne had sent him a text message an hour ago, saying that it was fine to bring Laila up in the visiting hours, but no news on Lisbon. He'd dived for his phone the second that the message tone had played – whether the news was good or bad, he knew that'd be heading back to the hospital. However, it was accompanied by a photo of the new baby, this time wrapped up in Grace's arms, and a name underneath.

...blue, Rigsby.

"There!" Jane announced, pointing his finger towards the baby that his eyes had settled on. Moving a long the window a little until they were right in front of him, he continued to indicate which baby they should be looking at. "You see him?"

Laila leaned outward of Jane's arms, causing him to readjust his grip on her, until her face was pressed against the window. "Yeah," she said, her voice filled with awe.

"That's your new brother," he explained.

"What's his name?" Laila asked, just as excited.

"His name is _Joshua_," Jane told her; not needing to check the message that he got it right. "Joshua Wayne Rigsby."

Laila smiled. "My name's got a Rigsby at the end _too_!" she told him in wonder.

"That's right," he praised her.

"Now Mommy and Daddy have got _two_ babies," she realised.

"They sure do," he nodded.

"But I'm not a baby anymore, am I, Uncle Pat?" she asked, still not taking her eyes off the tiny baby that was her new brother. She didn't seem all that worried about him being a brother instead of a sister now.

"You're always going to be everyone's baby," he told her softly, kissing the top of her head.

"Even when I've got lots of babies too?" she asked.

He resisted the temptation to tell her that she wasn't allowed to start dating until she was thirty, as he had done with his daughter, but he was sure that Wayne was more than capable of threatening any of Laila's future boyfriends. "Even then," he assured her instead.

Dropping that conversation, Laila smudged her face against the glass. "Joshua looks funny," she said, even though she pronounced his name more like '_joshaa'_.

"That's because he's so little," Jane explained to her.

"He's all wrinkly," she pointed out, smearing her hand against the window.

"He won't be for long," he continued.

"Can he play with us yet?" she asked.

Jane shook his head, watching her shoulders fall with a dramatic moan of impatience. "He's not big enough yet," he told her. "He's got to learn to crawl and walk first before he can keep up with us."

Laila nodded, and proudly announced her next statement as if she were the only person in the world to know it. "Babies don't talk yet, too."

"No, we'll have to teach him that as well," he nodded.

Laila turned away from the window and frowned at him. "Isn't that Mommy and Daddy's job?" she asked.

He smiled, his first real smile other than the news about the baby that morning. "I'm sure we can help them out a little bit."

Laila giggled to him, giving him a cuddle before going back to her inquisitive questions. There was no end to her wonderings, but he was happy to answer her questions as long as they distracted him from things that would end his smiles, and providing she didn't ask about where babies came from. At the moment, she seemed thankfully preoccupied with how tiny and cute the baby was and how many eyelashes he had, and how amazing it was that he had fingernails like she did, than asking more anatomical questions.

* * *

A week is a long time to wait when you're waiting for the woman you love to wake up. The whole world seemed darker – a darker place that he hadn't visited for a long time. He felt alone, but he was never actually by himself during the daylight. Cho would come every morning before he went to work, bringing him tea and breakfast (both of which would be forced down). Grace would come wandering during visiting hours, always in her wheelchair as insisted by the nurses. Sometimes she would bring baby Joshua with her, sometimes she would leave him for some male bonding time with his father. Wayne would come during the evening, bringing more food for him to struggle down before he left the hospital for the night to go home to Laila. From what Wayne told him, Laila asked to come and see her 'lovely Auntie Resa' every day, but they all decided that it was for the best if she didn't.

One week to the day when Lisbon had been shot, Grace walked into his room in street clothes. He looked confused as she wandered in, sitting down on the chair opposite him and taking Lisbon's free hand as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She looked more rested, and much more comfortable in her sweat pants and hooded sweater. Her red hair was pulled up in a braid still, but it had been freshly cleaned. "How is she this morning?" she asked.

Jane continued to stare at her. "You're leaving," he stated.

"Yeah, Wayne's signing me and Joshua out now. We finally get to go home," she said, obviously anxious but also thrilled to be taking her little boy home. "How is she?" she repeated.

"Same," Jane grunted. He didn't mean to sound indifferent, but his voice was so rarely used now that it seemed naturally gravely.

The two sat in silence for a while, both of them holding a hand each of Lisbon's, before Grace asked the question that she had been sitting on all week. "You really do love her, don't you?" she whispered.

"I can't lose her," was Jane's eventual answer.

Grace watched him looking down at the woman in the bed. There must have been some intensely strong feelings on his part, at least, because there was an emotion in his eyes that she had rarely seen before. The distraught pain that they all saw whenever he thought about his wife and daughter, but mixed with a hope that was struggling to hold on. "She'll wake up soon, Jane," she said, an encouraging tone in her voice. "For you."

He smirked, but it didn't travel to his eyes. "Every day they say she'll wake up," he pointed out. "She hasn't yet."

"When she does, she'll see the one she loves at her side," Grace assured him. He tore his eyes away from Lisbon to look at her, his eyebrows knitted together. "Cho and Wayne...they heard what you two said to each other when...when she got hurt," she explained.

He sighed. "I guess it's not that much of a secret anyway. You always had your suspicious and your wagers, at least, Rigsby and Cho did."

"You used to look at her differently than you looked at the rest of us," she told him.

He smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes a little. He held Lisbon's hand tighter, bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. He didn't feel the need to fight the little urges around Grace as he did with the others. He could reach for her hand a little tighter, he could keep the loving look in his eyes. "Yeah, I've been told," he nodded.

"By the others?" she asked.

He shook his head. "By her," he said simply. There was no doubt which 'her' he was talking about.

* * *

When the team left, that was when the darkness set in. He knew that he wasn't going to forget this feeling for the rest of his life, that it would get stored away for the nightmares with the other bad night of his life. Without a doubt, he was in love with Lisbon. The moment he had taken her in his arms in the hall, holding her as her life slipped away from her, had been enough to send his head and his heart back to a very dark place, and once again, he was powerless. He hurt. His heart actually hurt. He'd lost two loves before, the love he had for his wife, and the love he had for his daughter, but this love, this new love he'd not had a chance to explore yet, she was still here. She was still in front of him, and yet there was still a pain in his chest that begged for some sedation against it. The only person who could take that pain away was the one person that he was sitting there and fighting for.

She was still deathly pale despite a third blood transfusion, her arms draped limply over the blankets, one of her hands always wrapped between Jane's. He let out a loud exhale, forcing control over himself. He'd been a complete wreck for most of the night, after Wayne had left. Fatherhood was definitely treating him well for a second time. Exhaustion was doing nothing to help his struggle, either, but he was nearly terrified to close his eyes. The temptation to break down was getting stronger and stronger. Even though she was right in front of him, it had been a week without seeing her eyes. He used to ignore suspensions just to see her eyes. But he refused to break down. Every time the choking feeling rose up in his throat, he would bite it back down with a practiced strength even if it drained the last hint of energy from him. It wasn't going to help Lisbon. It wasn't going to make her wake up, and it wasn't going to get him anywhere either.

However, there were some moments of optimism. Hope had been restored since the nurses had removed the oxygen mask in favour of a nose clip, stating that her breathing was much stronger now. That had bought a smile to his lips, knowing that the strong Lisbon was coming back. The tubes in her arms, too, were decreasing day by day. Painkillers were no longer flowing into her body, numbing the pain that was partially the reason for her unconsciousness. They were still keeping her hydrated through tubes, feeding her the nutrients she couldn't provide for herself, which didn't worry him nearly as much as the painkillers had. After all, this was simply healing her body in the same way in which someone would get over the flu – keep eating and drinking.

"Please, Teresa," he whispered into the night, bringing one of her hands up to his cheek, holding it there while he reached out to stroke her dark hair. "You've got to wake up now. Move...open your eyes..._anything_. Just...anything. I need to know that you're okay. It's been a week. That's long enough, right? I keep trying to believe that you're going to be okay, but until you open your eyes, I can't believe it."

The choking sensation returned, but he knew that fighting it off was useless now. He sniffed back against it, but he didn't fight too hard.

"I'm _so _scared that I'm going to lose you, too," he whispered desperately. "But that can't happen, right?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Pursuit of Happiness**

**Chapter 6**

Since that night, when he first spoke to her comatose body, he found himself talking to her a lot. At times, his voice was worn think because of the constant chatter he kept up, despite the lack of response. Somehow, he'd found endless things to tell her about from inside the empty room. He'd tell her about the weather, which he only knew about because someone would come in and open the blinds in the morning. He'd tell her about baby Joshua, and Laila. He'd tell her anything about the kids. He'd almost gotten his cell phone out and tried to show her the wallpaper on his home screen of the proud big sister holding her little brother. He'd tell her about how he left her side only briefly to go and sit with Wayne while Joshua was born, and how he was the first person besides the parents to have seen him. He'd tell her about his predictions about who the little boy would look like. He'd tell her about how Laila had taken a shine to napping on his couch with him. There was always something.

And then, suddenly, when he was no longer expecting it, there was something else.

* * *

"Cho, I..think you should get everyone down here."

The call came from a thick, emotional voice. Cho would almost picture Jane leaning up against the wall, cell phone in one hand, running his other through his once-again messy hair. Cho lifted himself from his desk, throwing his already empty coffee cup into the trash. "What happened?" he asked, getting his jacket and heading towards the elevator even though he'd only arrived on CBI property ten minutes before. He braced himself for bad news, the only reason he could think of why it was necessary to get everyone to the hospital - this was it, he supposed. It was time to get Lisbon's brothers on the phone, time to get them here, time for them to say their goodbyes. But instead, Jane actually laughed down the phone.

"She's waking up," he choked out. "I was talking to her, and she started mumbling things."

"Things?" he questioned, stepping into the elevator.

"I couldn't understand most of it," he said. "But there was one thing..." he trailed off, as if composing for a moment.

"What?" he asked shortly.

Jane took a shuddering breath, so loud that Cho could hear it even over the 'ding' of the elevator arriving at the ground floor. "My name," he whispered, clearing his throat and repeating my name. "She said my name."

* * *

The entire team spent the morning at the hospital. Cho called Wayne, who had bought Grace with him even though it had taken them an hour of debating whether or not to leave Joshua with the sitter as well. In the end they decided it was for the best. He'd then called Hightower, explaining why he'd disappeared shortly after arriving at the office, and she'd passed the message on to Minelli. Minelli stayed at the hospital with them, but Hightower tended to disappear and then reappear, all signalled interruptions on her cell phone. Lunch would have been forgotten about completely if it weren't for Grace ringing home to remind the sitter about Joshua's feed. Now, they decided, would be a good time to call Lisbon's brothers, now that they knew for sure she'd be waking up. They found the number for Tommy and called him, and he'd insisted they would all be there as soon as they could.

While they waited outside, Jane remained at Lisbon's side, holding her hand even tighter and urging her to wake up. He ended up ignoring the sandwich that Grace bought him, but he did drink the tea that Minelli insisted he drank, all the time reciting his constant mantra of "please, wake up."

As the afternoon began, the team would take it in turns to check in the room to see what was happening. Most of the time they stood outside, watching through the window in the door as Jane stayed stationary at her side. Lisbon mumbled incoherently every so often, with more mention of Jane's name escaping her lips when he spoke to her. The nurses assured them this was good because it showed it wasn't just an unconscious thought, it meant that a part of her mind was aware of her surroundings and who was beside her. But other than that, their hopes remained shaking, waiting for her condition to prove just an inch more, enough for her to wake.

After a nurse had checked in on them shortly after three in the afternoon, he felt the need to change his mantra, as it clearly wasn't working. Lisbon wasn't any more responsive than she had been when he called Cho that morning. "Hey," he whispered. It didn't feel strange to talk to her anymore, but he knew that the others would be able to hear him if he spoke any louder, especially since they could already see through the window into the room. "I _know _you can hear me, Lisbon. You've made it this far, you've held on this long...you'll be in the clear now as long as you just open your eyes. I know you can do it. Even if it's just for a second. Show us you're getting better." He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it and vaguely hearing a throat-clearing protest from Hightower outside. After, though, he rested his head forward on their clasped hands, exhausted. "_Please_," he choked out.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was a dull pain throbbing through her torso. It wasn't unbearable, just annoying, and with that was the feeling of being pulled back into sleep, despite feeling as though she had slept for ages. Once she'd located the source of the pain, she tried to figure out what happened. Where was she? She could hear things happening around her, but her eyelids still felt so heavy and she couldn't open her eyes. She tried to force herself to move, but it didn't work. Giving up on the visuals to find out where she was, she turned to her other senses. Taste: she could taste nothing, her mouth was horribly dry though. Touch: someone was touching her, holding her hand; she knew those hands, she trusted those hands. Smell: a metallic, clean smell. Sound: beeping...

She knew that sound. She knew that beeping. She'd heard it before. Machines. Monitors. She was in a hospital. Why? Why was going on? What had happened? Then, she heard another sound above the machines, thick with emotion but unmistakable in identity. "Please, Teresa, wake up."

Jane. Jane was the one next to her. Jane was the one holding her hand.

No, not Jane.

Patrick.

She tried to call out to him, but her voice came out in a moan instead.

"_Teresa_?" he questioned, hearing the moan and snapping his head up quickly. He got another moan in response and he stood from the chair, letting it tumble underneath him as he moved closer to the bed, leaning over her. "Teresa, can you hear me?"

"_Pa_..." she tried to say, before being cut off by her dry throat. "Patrick?"

"Shh," he whispered. "Don't try to talk, I'm going to get the nurse."

He was relieved to discover that he didn't need to go anywhere, but that he only pressed a button above her head, looking over his shoulder to give a relieved nod. He didn't have time to register the relieved smiles on their faces as Grace proceeded to hug everyone in celebration. Instead, he turned back to Lisbon, looking down at her as her eyes finally started to flutter open. Just a little at first, but there was a slither of those green eyes that he'd missed. Her eyes were unfocused at first before they settled on him.

"Patrick," she groaned again.

"I'm right here," he told her, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, taking hold of her hand again and placing his other hand on her cheek. "I'm here."

"It hurts," she muttered desperately, going to press down on the source of the pain as one would with an ache from cramp. He took hold of her other hand too, keeping it away from the area. They'd taken her off the painkillers three days ago in hopes that the pain levels might cause her to wake up quicker. As the pain came to her, she realised where the wound was, and she remembered what had happened. The gunshot. The blood. The pain. Patrick. And then...then just darkness.

"It's ok," he assured her. "You're going to be fine now,"

"_Hurts_," she repeated, tightening her hand around Jane's almost painfully as she couldn't concentrate on the area she wanted to.

At that moment, her doctor came into the room giving her a smile. "Welcome back, Agent Lisbon," he told her, but she was in no place to return to greeting. She barely gave him her attention at all as he checked her responses, asked her questions about the year, the president, and then to all their relief, gave her some painkillers. After that, he turned back to Jane. "She'll recover just fine now," he assured her. "We'll keep her here until morning, but tomorrow we'll move her downstairs."

"Thank you," he nodded, and the doctor disappeared.

Now that they were alone, or as alone as they could be with everyone watching them, he moved closer. The affect of the painkiller entering her system was almost immediate. Even though she could still feel the pain, it was more bearable, so her whimpers stopped and she wasn't trying to move her hands towards the area. However, when Jane reached out to her, she moved against his touch, trying to bring him closer. "Teresa?" he asked softly. She looked at him, and raised her hand with some considerable effort to touch his cheek.

"I remember what happened," she told him, her voice hoarse where it hadn't been used. He closed his eyes, capturing the hand in his to hold it in place against his face.

"I thought I'd lost you," he admitted, looking down at her torso, where underneath the blankets was many bandages and the source of her pain. "You've been out for over a week," he told her.

"A week?" she repeated in disbelief.

He nodded. "You've missed some things, but the others wanted to tell you before I do."

"You've stayed the whole time?"

"I wouldn't have been anywhere else," he assured her, stroking her jaw line with his thumb.

"Why?" she asked, even though the gentle smile told him that she was glad to find him at her side, just as Grace had predicted.

"Because I love you," he said – the drop of a coffee cup, Hightower's, he guessed, came from outside the room – "I was so scared," he admitted, needing to get it off his chest. "You stopped breathing, and they had to resuscitate you...I just...I was holding you and you looked at me, and you stopped breathing. I was _so _scared that I'd lost you. Then it took them hours to save you and we waited so long...and when they _finally _let me see you again you were so pale...so still...and there was so much _blood_..." he felt himself getting choked up, and he held her hand tightly.

"I looked like them," she realised quietly. "Didn't I?"

He nodded. "I thought you were dead, Teresa, I really did." By now, there were more tears in his eyes but he didn't want to cry. He had no reason to, other than relief, and it wasn't that which was getting him emotional but rather the memory that would haunt him forever. He didn't think he'd ever forget seeing her for the first time like that. "I love you," he repeated.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

"No, I mean it," he insisted. "You're everything to me. I know I had a wife before, but she...she's gone, and she'd want me to be happy. And...and I think she'd have liked you. You make up my life now and I don't want that to change. Without you it isn't worth it. It's not about Red John anymore. That's not what gets me off the couch. It's _you_. I've barely survived a week without you, what if I'd had to do it permanently?" he shook his head. "I couldn't have lost you as well. All this time I've had all these feelings for you, and they were nearly wasted. We need time to be together. I should have told you sooner, and now I'm going to tell you all the time. I don't care if you find it annoying or irritating, because I can't afford for you to _ever_ doubt it."

She touched her hand to his hair. It needed a wash. He hadn't been lying when he said he'd spent most of his time at the hospital with her. "Okay," she agreed.

Catching her eyes, when he'd been afraid for a while that he'd never see them again, he leaned forwards. Supporting himself with his arms either side of her, their lips joined in the kiss the both needed. It was soft, much softer than the desperate first kiss in the hall, when he'd been begging her to stay with him. Yet though it was soft, it was so passionate, so filled with love, desire and relief, and they couldn't have replaced it. When they parted, resting their foreheads together, they stole small, chaste kisses before the gap between them get too large.

"God, I've missed you," he whispered.

* * *

"Oh, _Grace_," Lisbon gasped lightly. "He's so _perfect_."

Lisbon would have liked to have been holding the newest Rigsby baby in her arms, to see up close the adorable child who had been able to capture all of their hearts just as Laila had done. However, thanks to the 'stupid, idiotic, ridiculous' – as Jane called them – hospital regulations, that couldn't happen. Joshua wasn't allowed on her room, he wasn't technically allowed on their floor, but Jane had taken a detour that morning when Grace and Wayne had bought Laila up to see her, waltzing past Lisbon's room with the baby boy, very clearly showing him off and loudly asking the nurses where the family room was because he simply couldn't find it. They knew he had a clear idea of where the family was, and after almost two weeks, they had a very clear idea of what Jane was like and they were starting to lose some love for him. Lisbon couldn't complain about his methods this time though, as he managed to keep them arguing with him long enough for her to get a fairy good look at the baby he was carrying past her room every few seconds.

For now, however, she had to make do with photographs during visiting hours. Now that she was on a ward they were restrictedly heavily to visiting hours – even Jane, which he was less than pleased about. There were only two other people on the ward this time, and Lisbon's health insurance was paying for a private room anyway, and no matter how many times he argued that he'd just sit silently while Lisbon rested, the duty nurse was still refusing to let him stay so much as thirty seconds over visiting hours. That didn't stop him from trying to sneak in every time, and several nights he stayed, hiding out in the bathroom when the nurses did their rounds to check her during the night. Today, however, Hightower had called him and demanded that she show up at the office for at least one day to help Cho out, since Grace was on maternity leave, Wayne was on paternity leave and Lisbon was in the hospital. Because of this, Grace had come to keep Lisbon company, leaving the kids with Wayne for a few hours and bringing with her an impressive collection of photographs.

The first photograph she'd picked up was the one where Grace had been holding her son for the first time. Of course, her hair was dishevelled and she looked exhausted, but she was still looking down at the baby like he was the most precious thing in the world. All that could be seen of Joshua was a tiny arm reaching out of the blankets. Guilty clutched at Lisbon as she looked at the snap and she turned to Grace with a sincere look of apology. "Grace, I am _so _sorry I wasn't there," she said softly. Her voice was stronger how, and though her limbs still felt weak most of the time, her mind and her voice were up to their usual functions after her prolonged rest.

"As much as your timing sucks, you're forgiven," Grace assured her.

The next photograph was of Wayne and Joshua. "Oh, _this _was the night we bought him home," she explained. Joshua was lying against Wayne's chest, where he was standing sideways to the camera, his tiny hand clutching at his fathers shirt now that he was free of constraint from the mountains of blankets in the other hospital photos. "He likes being held like that, keeps him relatively quiet during the night."

"His name's beautiful," she admired.

"Thanks," Grace beamed. "We _were _having trouble on a middle name but..."

"Let me guess; Jane had something to do with it?" she estimated.

She nodded. "We never considered a middle name for a boy. Wayne was happy enough with a boy just carrying on the family name."

Lisbon leaned back against the pillows. The bed was thankfully raised so that she was still in a sitting position by doing this. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Grace's company, but more than she still felt weak. She was assured by the doctors that it was just her body getting used to being awake again, but she still felt quite tired – clearly healing was no job for the faint of heart. She could easily have fallen asleep, but that would be a waste of the visiting hours she craved. She knew that Jane would visit turning the evening, and that Wayne would bring Laila by again when Grace got home. She looked forward to that.

The next photo showed just that – Laila with her new baby brother. It was an adorable portrait of Laila sitting on the couch with Joshua in her arms. Of course, where she was still so little herself you could see Grace's arms leaning into the photograph from one side, showing her how to hold the baby properly and keep his head supported. Laila was grinning at the camera like she was holding the treasure at the end of the rainbow. She smiled softly, "they look adorable together," she noted. "So alike."

She continued to flick through the photographs, her smile growing with each new picture of the already gorgeous baby boy. Joshua would definitely grow up to break some hearts, that was for sure. The combination of his parents features had created yet another staggeringly beautiful child. However, at the very back of the pile, Lisbon found herself gazing rather intently at the final photograph.

It was the first one she'd seen with Jane it. She'd assumed there were no photographs of Jane and the new baby because he'd been with her so often that he'd not spent much time with his new godson. Just seeing him in the photograph made her wish he'd waltz into the room with his cheeky smile, but her smile quickly dropped into something more melancholy. She held it loosely in her hands, trailing her fingers over the somewhat romantic image of Jane holding Joshua. She knew he'd been ecstatic about being named godfather again, and it showed in the photo. He was stood up, in what looked like the hospital nursery, holding Joshua in his arms. His tiny head was supported in the crook of Jane's elbow, with the rest of his arm cradling him against his chest. Not much of the baby was visible in the photo, just the side of his face, his downy hair and his arm, which was reaching out and taking hold of Jane's little finger. The two of them were staring at each other so intently, Jane with the smallest but completely genuine smile on his lips at the baby's action of holding onto him - ten times smaller than his usual grin, but for some reason, ten times more expressive. She couldn't quite put her finger on why this photograph put an explosion of butterflies into her stomach, but there was something about the photograph that was so intensely beautiful to her.

"He must have been _such _a wonderful father," she whispered. "She must have been the luckiest girl in the world," she added, not having to refer to Jane's daughter but Grace knew exactly who she was talking about.

"I always thought it would have been hard to for him to be around Laila," Grace noted. "But he seems to love her so much."

"He does," she confirmed. "I bet he used to fight his wife to hold his little girl," she smiled lightly.

"Seriously?" Grace smirked. "I doubt he would have handed her over to begin with." When she noticed Lisbon continued to stare at the photo, she nodded towards it. "You can keep that one if you want," she offered. "I thought Jane might like to see it."

"Thank you," she smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Pursuit Of Happiness**

**Chapter Seven**

"Auntie Resa, Auntie Resa!"

Lisbon looked up, the sound of a child's excited cry heralding the start of the evening's visiting hours. Laila ran ahead of Jane, her tiny feet tapping against the laminated flooring like a marching band, and she waited impatiently at the side of Lisbon's bed when she reached it. She wasn't high enough to hoist herself onto the bed like she obviously wanted to, so she settled for bouncing up and down instead. Jane was quick after her, trying not to spill his tea as he jogged to keep up with the speedy child. After setting his tea down beside the chair he'd eventually take, he lifted Laila up, turning her to look at him.

"Remember when Daddy bought you here before, what you talked about?" he asked her. Laila nodded. "What did your Daddy tell you?"

"He said that Auntie Resa has got a poorly tummy so we can't touch near it," she recited obediently.

"Good girl," he praised. "Be very careful with her, ok?"

She nodded. "Ok."

Jane put Laila down on the side of the mattress and she quickly, but carefully, crawled up to Lisbon, settling at her side. Awkwardly, Lisbon moved herself over on the mattress to make room for her. Once she was settled, Laila knelt on the mattress before her, looking torn between wanting to hug her and not wanting to hurt her, just as she had the last time she had visited. Seeing the expression on her face, Lisbon made the decision for her, moving into a sitting position and carefully embracing Laila to her unharmed side. While they did this, Jane sat on the other side of the mattress, watching the two embrace.

"Hi, sweetie," she said.

"Not hurting?" Laila checked.

"No, Laila, you're not hurting me," she assured her. At this, the little girl visibly relaxed into her arms, hugging her back and making no move to let go.

"Is it time for you to go home yet?" she asked.

Lisbon shook her head. "Not yet, honey."

"But it's been forever!" she complained impatiently.

Lisbon smiled softly. "It definitely feels that way."

"Uncle Pat misses you lots," Laila told her.

Lisbon directed her smile over the top of the little girls head, towards the man she had mentioned. He had yet to speak to her, or kiss her as he usually did when he arrived, but he was smiling between her and Laila, and she understood that he was being more withdrawn around her. It was one thing for the team (and she assumed now, the entire CBI building) to know about her and Jane having intense feelings for one another, but it was another thing entirely to display them in front of a child. "I'm sure he does," she commented lightly.

"Yeah," Jane nodded back, never taking his eyes away from hers. "He really does."

"I think you should come home very soon," Laila decided. "Hop-sitals aren't very nice places."

"Sometimes they're nice," Jane told her quickly. "Your new little brother came from the hospital, remember?" Laila contemplated this thought quietly. "Don't worry, Auntie Resa will be home very soon."

She suddenly broke out from Lisbon's arms. "Uncle Pat, my card!" she cried.

"It's right here," he said, producing a folded piece of paper from inside his jacket and handing to her.

She took it from him and handed it to Lisbon proudly. "I made it all on my own, no one helped me. Not even Mommy or Daddy."

Lisbon looked at the paper, folded in half to create a card. On the front there was a jumble of colourful curls which looked like it should be writing, positioned above lots of stick people. She opened it to see more of the same multi-coloured loops inside. "Thank you very much, Laila," she smiled. "I love it."

"It's you, and me, and Mommy and Daddy, and Uncle Pat, and my Cho," she said, pointing to the stick figures, and Lisbon smiled when she saw that her's and Jane's stick figures had the same long line for arms, as if they were holding hands. Then she opened it up and Laila pointed to the writing. "And it says 'to Auntie Resa, I miss you lots, get better soon, love from Laila' and these are lots of kisses and cuddles."

Touched by this, she kissed Laila's forehead. "It's beautiful, Laila. Perhaps Uncle Pat will put it up where everyone can see it."

Taking his cue, Jane took the card from her and placed it on the night stand. Laila soon wore herself out talking at lightening speed, and as visiting hours began to draw to a close she found herself curled against Lisbon's side, fast asleep. Lisbon stroked her hair as she slept, looking down at her contently. She couldn't believe how much she had missed her goddaughter, her innocence and enthusiasm for life. She took it for granted that on a bad day, when the cases were getting to them and it seemed like everyone in the world was capable of evil deeds, Laila would come to the office with Grace after finishing kindergarten, or when the babysitter had to leave early, and she would make them all smile no matter what – she'd even made Jane smile during a Red John case before.

Jane watched them as they lay so contently, not hiding the fact that he was gazing at them so intently. Without looking up from Laila, Lisbon spoke. "Why are you staring?" she asked.

He took one of her hands, a soft gesture showing the need for affection that she rarely exhibited before this had happened to her. He held it as if he were holding a priceless artefact, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. "Laila was right. I do miss you."

"I want to get out of here," she sighed.

"Ah, speaking of home..." he began.

She looked panicked. "Don't tell me I have to stay longer in this place than I already do?"

"No, three more days and you're home free," he assured her. "I checked with the nurse earlier."

"Thank God," she said, relaxing again. "It's incredibly boring in here."

He nodded slowly, but she could see that there was something on his mind. "Patrick?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled.

"What are you wanting to ask me?"

"Huh?" he asked, jerking back into life.

"It's taken time, but I've finally learned how to tell when you're hiding things from me," she smiled.

He shook his head. "Took you long enough."

"Come on, Jane. What is it?"

"I was just wondering...something," he sighed.

"Something in particular?" she asked.

"Well," he said, looking down into his tea. "I...I need to move on," he explained. "Properly. When I left here last night I painted over the face in my bedroom," he said. Her eyes widened. "But I'm still staring at the wall and after four coats of paint I could still see it, but I realised that I wasn't really seeing it, I just knew it was there, knew exactly what it looked like, and that it'd never go away. I've decided...I want to sell the house," he told her quietly.

She was silent for a moment, in complete shock. She wasn't sure what she'd ever thought about that house in Malibu. She knew that it haunted him, she knew that it completely tortured him, really. She knew that he still returned there regardless. She knew it was because of the memories, but at some point, probably when they caught Red John she had expected him to leave the house. But before Red John had been caught? That she hadn't expected. She had only assumed that part of punishing himself included sleeping beneath the red face. "Wow," she whispered afterwards.

"Anyway," he continued afterwards. "When I asked the nurses when you were leaving the hospital they said it was 'advisable' if you had someone around to help you out at home for a few days, lifting things and making sure you don't hurt yourself, for example. I was...hoping that perhaps that person could be me, so that I could have somewhere to stay while the house sale goes through. I don't think I can be there now that I've made the decision and moved everything."

"Of course," she nodded, apprehensive about having Jane stay because of the expectations that might be in place now that they were romantically involved, and she wondered if he would ever leave there , or if a few days would turn into a few weeks, and eventually permanent.

"Thank you," he smiled. "It would be highly appreciated, plus you would have me there to cook you wonderful dinners so that you don't have to be on your feet for too long."

"You can cook?" she asked curiously.

"Better than you," he nodded.

"Wait, did you say you'd already moved everything?" she asked. He nodded. "Where to?"

"My car," he said simply.

She frowned. "How much is there?"

"Not as much as there should be," he realised a little sadly. "I should have more, but I just have the important things."

She nodded slowly, knowing that important things for him weren't classed as toothbrushes, hair products and clothes...important things were his wife and daughter's belongings. She tightened her hold on his hand. "You can stay as long as you like," she smiled softly at him. "We're together now, right?" she checked.

"Of course," he nodded, kissing her hand again.

"Then it's ok for us to stay with each other," she reminded him. "For however long."

It was a hint, but he got it, and he observed her face for a moment, trying to make sure that he had read her right. After all, Lisbon was a hard woman to read, and if she had feelings for him all this time and he hadn't picked up on them then he wasn't as good at reading her as well as he thought. "Teresa, are you asking me to stay with you _permanently_?" he asked her slowly.

"I guess," she confirmed.

"That's...a big step," he said.

"I know," she nodded.

"Are you...are you sure about this?" he checked.

"The only rest I get from you bugging me is when I'm asleep anyway," she reminded him lightly. "That won't change much if we're living together. Would you...I mean, is it something you'd want to do?"

He smiled. "Teresa, after nearly losing you, the thought of _not _being close to you, of not being able to lie beside you at night, is completely torturous for me."

She took a shuddering breath. "So...we're serious about this," she realised, suddenly realising how quickly this had happened.

"Why wouldn't we be?" he asked, looking concerned now. "If you're unsure-"

"I'm not," she told him quickly, she felt stupid, being the one to suggest it, and then being the one to show doubts. "But..."

"Whatever it is, I'll understand," he told her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

She was silent for a moment, but he gave her time to answer. Her gaze moved down to where her wound was. "You're not agreeing to this because I got shot, are you?" she asked.

He followed her gaze. "What would that have to do with it?"

"You selling your house and staying at mine happens to coincide with the man who shot me not getting caught yet," she said. "You're highly protective, Patrick, especially over woman, especially over Grace, Laila and myself."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I almost died, and I don't want you to come and stay with me just to fulfil a need to protect me. I'd rather you stay because you _want _to," she explained.

Jane tried to laugh it off at first. "Teresa, I...ok, maybe you're right," he realised. "But that's not the main reason."

"Patrick, I'll be fine," she assured him. "I can protect myself."

His face changed suddenly, a tone of anger and hurt making its way to the surface of his voice. "He _shot _you, Teresa."

"Patrick-"

"No, Teresa, he _shot _you. He hurt you. He could have..." he lowered his voice, remembering Laila sleeping beside them still. "He could have _killed _you, Teresa, just like that. We would have lost out on having any time together, time that we deserve to have. Forgive me for being a bit put out by that, but I intend to spent a lot more time than that low life wanted us to have, showing you how important you are to me. I want close my eyes at night and know that you're safe and right beside me. I don't care if that's chauvinistic, but it's what I feel. I want you to be safe and if it takes me being close to you permanently to do that then yes, that's what I'm prepared to do."

Lisbon was silent for a moment, and in the fading light outside he could see the sheen over her eyes.

"Oh God, please don't cry," he said in a tone of dread. He wasn't good with crying women.

"I'm not crying," she insisted in a tight voice. "I...it's the painkillers."

Knowing that this was a cover, he smiled. "Yeah, aspirin will do that to you." She looked at him, shocked. "I was curious earlier, so I asked the nurses what drugs you'd be on once you left the hospital and they said you were pretty much on aspirin now."

"Patrick..."

"Look, I completely understand," he acknowledge. "This is a big step for me as well, and regardless of how much both of us want it, we're still going to be apprehensive on some level. I just want you to know that if you want to give it a try, then I'm one hundred percent wanting to try," he told her.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

He stood up, leaning towards her to give her the kiss that she'd been waiting for all day. However, right before their lips were about to touch, a rather annoyed nurse stuck her head into Lisbon's room.

"Mr Jane, visiting hours finished ten minutes ago," she informed him sharply.

"Really?" he asked innocently. "I didn't realise..."

This nurse, however, remembered just how he had also claimed not to know where the family room was when he had taken baby Joshua onto the ICU. "Oh, you realised all right..."

Jane looked at Laila. "But she's sleeping..."

"And Miss Lisbon is _not_, and she should be," the nurse pointed out.

Lisbon looked up from where she, too, had been watching Laila. "I'm not tired," she piped up.

"You should at least be resting, miss," the nurse told her.

"I _am _resting," she pointed out. "I'm lying comfortably, and I've really missed my god-daughter today, so having her here is very relaxing for me."

"I am sure it is, Miss Lisbon, but the rules are rules," she turned to Jane again. "I'm sorry, Mr Jane, you'll have to come back tomorrow. Even if Miss Lisbon isn't tired there are plenty of other patients on this floor that would like some peace and quiet to sleep."

"We could close the door?" Jane offered.

"_Mr Jane_," she warned him.

He sighed. "Can you just give us ten minutes to wake her up and let her say goodbye?" he asked, referring to Laila. The nurse frowned. "Please, it would mean a lot to her if she got to say goodnight to her god-mother."

With a flash of that oh-so-persuasive smile, the nurse nodded. "Five minutes," she compromised.

"Thank you," Jane called after her as she left. Once she was out of earshot, he leaned back down to Lisbon. "I'm not quite sure why she dislikes me so much."

"You do make her job rather difficult," she pointed out.

He mocked an offended look. "Am I really that bad?"

She nodded. "You're using Laila as an excuse for stay for ten more minutes."

"Actually, it's not an excuse," he told her. "Apparently the other night Daddy took her home while she was asleep and that meant she didn't get to say goodbye to you, and she refused to speak to him the next day."

With that, and knowing that only had a time limit and that Laila still needed waking to say her goodbyes, he leaned down once more and placed his lips to hers. It was only a gentle kiss, but his hand cupped her cheek and caressed her jaw line as if he were pouring his entire heart into the contact. When they parted they remained close together, their breaths mingling in the tiny gap between them and causing them to shiver at the sensation. "I really like doing that," Jane whispered, his lips brushing over hers with every syllable.

The movement tempted her, and she captured his lips into a kiss when he finished speaking. "Then do it more often," she enticed him afterwards.

"Oh, I plan to," he smirked, as he pulled back. "Prepare to be thoroughly kissed in the near future." He turned to wake Laila with a gentle shake. "_Laila_...Laila, honey, wake up."

"Huh?" she mumbled.

"It's time to go home, my dear, so you need to say goodnight to Auntie Resa."

Laila whined at this. "_Ohhh_..."

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's late now. Let's say goodnight and your dad can bring you back to see Auntie Resa tomorrow," he assured her.

But Laila just cuddled up to her even more. "I wanna _stay_," she mumbled.

"So do I, but the very nice nurses say that it's time to go home."

"They're not very nice then," she decided grumpily.

Lisbon smiled. "I'll still be here tomorrow," she assured her. "You can see me then."

"Promise?" Laila checked.

"I promise," Lisbon whispered, almost conspiratorially, as she hugged her as close as she could without hurting herself. Jane still saw a tiny wince as she did so, but she obviously wanted to hug more than she wanted to stay out of pain.

"I love you, Auntie Resa," she said tiredly.

"I love you too, Laila," she smiled. "Are you going to be good and go to bed nicely for your mom and dad tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah," Laila nodded.

"Good girl."

Jane helped her off the bed and she waited patiently at his side, leaning against the mattress tiredly, while he leaned back over Lisbon. He kissed her, despite her glance at Laila first. She was too tired to pay any attention to what they were doing anyway, her eyes were already drooping again. Lisbon knew that Jane would end up carrying her down the hall and by the time that they got to his car she would be fast asleep. She probably wouldn't even wake up as her parents put her in her pyjamas and into bed, which guaranteed them a quiet night, save for Joshua's crying, of course.

When they parted from the kiss, she put her hand on his chest. "Ok, you _really _have to go," she told him. "The nurses hate you enough."

He smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me, Teresa."

"I'm just thinking about your safety," she defended. "You would never hit a woman, but that doesn't mean the nurse wouldn't hurt you. You can tell she wants to."

He laughed lightly, but then turned seriously, looking her over and then to the door, then back to her. "You, uh...You're ok for the night?" he asked her hesitantly.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I expect I'll sleep soon."

"Sure?" he checked.

She smiled, moving her hand to his cheek. "Patrick, I'm not going anywhere except to the bathroom," she assured him. "Nothing is going to happen to me here, and I'll be right here when you come back tomorrow. I'm not going _anywhere_," she repeated.

He kept his eyes on her as he brushed some stray hairs away from her face. "No, you're not," he acknowledged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Pursuit Of Happiness**

**Chapter Eight**

Madeline Hightower sometimes felt like banging her head against her desk when it came to Lisbon and Jane. The only thing that stopped her was knowing that this wasn't the way she had ever dealt with her problems, nor would it solve them. What she had presented before her now wasn't so much a problem as an inconvenience that may later result in a problem if not handled correctly. She could understand now why she had been advised not to take the position at CBI, but she assured herself and plenty of others that not only was she more than qualified for the job but she could also deal with things of all manners and interests objectively.

Including Patrick Jane.

Jane was the future of the organisation, she still stood by the initial decision to support his results (his results, not always his methods). He closed cases, and he closed them quickly, and they never ended up locking away the wrong person. There had been many suspensions for the rest of Lisbon's team, including the team leader herself, but Jane always managed to drag them back into the case regardless of what the paperwork stated. But his relationship with Lisbon was something that always interested her somewhat. She was easily the only one who could control him some of the time, and he trusted her implicitly. Recently they had taken the turn from co-workers to friends without it affecting their working relationship, which involved complaining, pranks and many apologies without as much forgiveness. They had secrets, inside jokes even, spreading back to conversations they'd had years ago in her office, something to do with paper frogs that kept being overhead that Hightower felt she would never understand. They'd saved each others lives, Jane had even killed a man to save her despite his absolute hatred of guns. She knew that threatening Lisbon's job would always get Jane to calm down, if only a little, because he enjoyed working with her and would only torture another team leader until Lisbon was returned.

She strolled into the hospital ward with her usual confidence and a piece of pristinely folded paper in her hands. She scanned the room numbers until she found the one she was looking for and her eyes fell on the familiar face of Teresa Lisbon, who was looking particularly pained today and trying not to show it. She gave her a smile of greeting but she was also shocked – after all, who would have expected Hightower to visit her?

"Agent Hightower, ma'am," she mumbled as a greeting.

"Good morning, Lisbon," she greeted.

"I...I wasn't expecting you," she continued to stumble over her words. "Cho normally comes in around now and..."

"The team have a new case today, and we need all hands on deck. Even Agent Risgby has returned to work early to help out," she explained, not divulging any details of the crime.

Lisbon nodded quietly. That explained why she hadn't seen Cho _or _Jane that morning.

Hightower watched her face, seeing the tiny disappointment that was there – whether it was disappointment for not being part of the case, however, or for not seeing her team mates as usual, she wasn't sure. "I know you weren't expecting to see me here, but I had something I wanted to speak with you about."

"Ma'am?" she asked.

"I had a visit from Jane this morning, he tells me you're being discharged tomorrow," she commented.

Lisbon nodded. "Yeah, they're weening me off the last of the meds now so that I don't have as many to take home with me," she explained, which explained the slightly pained expression. "I didn't think I needed them, but that was before they took them away. Turns out a bit of morphine is actually kinda nice," she tried to smile.

"Will you be having any help at home during your recovery?" she asked.

Again, she nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She didn't mention Jane, so Hightower did.

"When I spoke with Jane this morning, he gave me this," she explained, handing over the slip of paper.

Lisbon opened the slip of paper, looking at the title of the sheet. It was from personnel, she'd had to fill in one herself when she moved into her new apartment. _Change of Residency/Personal Details_. When she looked down the sheet, she saw Jane's name and address as the current information, and further down, on the bottom half of the sheet, she saw that it had been altered to show his name with her address and home telephone number. She couldn't help but smile – he clearly was planning on staying more than a few days, and was obviously not going to be searching for a new apartment. He'd already found one: hers.

"Lisbon, how long have you and Jane been in a romantic relationship?" Hightower asked her.

Lisbon winced as she adjusted her position on the bed. "Since about sixty seconds after I was shot," she explained bluntly. Hightower didn't look convinced. "It was supposed to be one of those deathbed confession things, at the time, anyway. You don't see that much of your blood all over two people and expect to come back from that."

"It's been clear for a while that the two of you had some feelings towards each other, and I'm aware that Agents Cho and Rigsby had a wager on the matter-" Lisbon made a mental note to give them a talking to about this, as she had not been aware of it. "-and obviously as Jane is a just a consultant attached to your team and not a fully employed CBI Agent, there is no protocol preventing you from proceeding with this relationship. That being said, I do need to know if this is going to affect you professionalism at work."

"I think it might," she admitted quietly. "But only because I think Jane might calm down now that his life's taking a new direction. I think I can rein him in at work a little more. He'll listen to me more."

Hightower nodded, noticing how Lisbon was once again reading the form she'd handed her. "If your relationship does get in the way of your duties, I will be forced to move him to another team, you understand that?" she asked.

Lisbon nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You also need to be sure that any implications that may arise concerning your relationship are worth it," she added. "I'm sure I don' t need to mention Van Pelt and Rigsby's several years ago."

Lisbon turned her eyes back to Hightower, a sudden burning in them, a flaming passion that was impossible to ignore. "Ma'am, Jane _loves_ me," she said, putting emphasis where it was needed. "He loves me, he doesn't care about the childhood I had, or what my job is, or the things I've had to do for a case. He doesn't care about things that have scared many other men away. He...he just loves me, ma'am and that...to have someone who loves me for who I am and not what they want me to be...that's worth _everything_," she whispered.

* * *

Taking Lisbon home the following morning was a magnificent weight off of Jane's mind. He'd already taken his belongings to the house, hiding the important boxes of his wife and daughter's belongings in her spare room. In fact, all of it had gone into the spare room for now – he hadn't wanted to assume that he'd automatically be sleeping in her room, although he couldn't wait to lie in a proper bed with her and hold her in his arms. He'd arrived at the hospital early in the morning, having spent the night at CBI with the team as they finished up the case. He'd tried to nap on the couch for a few hours in the middle of the night, but his mind was too focused on getting Lisbon out of the hospital, so he'd arrived before he was allowed to, sat by her side and bugged the nurses to discharge her from the second he arrived to the second they eventually thrust the forms in his face.

He had no plans on going back to CBI for the next few days. He was sure that Hightower would have given him the time off if he had asked, but Lisbon had told him about her conversation with the boss the day before and he just assumed that she'd be fine with him not turning up. Besides, he knew Lisbon well and he knew that she was still going to be stir crazy, just in a different location. She'd started constantly shifting around in the bed, trying to get comfortable though she was forced to remain in the same position for most of the day. She was given more freedom once she was steady on her legs, able to walk to the bathroom and, for her sanity, to the coffee machine without a nurse's aid. Once she was home, however, she might try to abuse her freedom by pushing herself.

To his surprise, however, Lisbon made no attempt to escape; she also didn't fight him on anything, which was more of a nice surprise than a shock. She allowed him to half lift her out of the car, walk her to the front door with a hand on the small of her back, open the door for her and close and lock it behind them. She'd even let him guide her to the couch, settle her down comfortably where she sat with her feet propped up and allowed him to place a light blanket over her. She was already wearing comfortable clothes that he had bought to the hospital for her to change into, so she had simply placed a pillow against the back of the couch and leaned sideways into it rather contently while he got her a glass of water and placed it on a small table in front of the couch.

After this, however, he was at a loss. Lisbon didn't look tired, considering all the hospital had allowed her to do was sleep and rest, but she looked more than happy to continue leaning sideways into the back of the couch cushions. She did look comfortable, pleased to be home, he guessed. So he made himself a pot of tea, bringing that with a milk jug that he had bought from his house to the table her drink was on, and lined up a pile of DVD's he assumed were her favourites and joined her on the couch. She lifted her legs carefully as he sat down in the middle of the couch, not at the other end like he probably should have done. When she lowered her legs once he was in place, he rested his hands on top of her blankets, one hand lying atop her know and the other trailing fingers along the bottom of her thigh. There was nothing sensual in the touch, just something innocent and comforting which demonstrated just how easily they could fall into this new arrangement.

Jane didn't pay that much attention to the movies, but Lisbon certainly did. He paid more attention to her as she would curl her lips at the amusing scenes, sometimes laughing softly at moments she couldn't deny tickled her funny bone no matter how many times she'd seen it before her hand went to her wound in retaliation to the movement. On the more emotional moments of the movies, the ones he would brand guilty pleasures and undeniably cheesy, she would force a stoic expression but he could see when she identified with something in particular and the green of her eyes turning darker with emotion. Halfway through one of these moments her hand travelled up from her lap, taking hold of his hand, the one that was resting on her knee. He smiled softly, bringing it to his lips before replacing their clasped hands on her knee once again.

Come lunch time she was starting to feel a little stiff and did try to get up. However, she did accept Jane's help. Sitting up and using her stomach muscles in any way was still painful, something she was told might be a case for a while. After all, she did have a bullet wound in the middle of the muscles that needed time to heal, but she still needed to keep moving so that the muscles didn't break down and become weakened. She made her way to the bathroom, thanking God that her apartment was all on level, and couldn't help but smile when she opened the bathroom door afterwards to see Jane leaning against the opposite wall to make sure she was ok. After that, she returned to the comfortable position she'd found on the couch and listened to him clattering around the kitchen as he made them some lunch so that she could take her painkillers with food.

They remained curled up on the couch together all afternoon, not really saying anything, just enjoying each others company. The painkillers made her a little groggy and she floated in and out of sleep for a couple of hours, each time waking up to see Jane smiling at her. He was watching her in a strange way that he never had before, she noticed, and when she asked him about it, he simply explained that he was appreciating her in a whole new way. After all, he no longer needed a reason to admire the curve of her neck, or the almost fluffy flicks at the end of her hair, or the stronger lines of green around the centre of her eyes.

He then went into the kitchen to put together a simple meal of spaghetti, showing off to Lisbon that yes, he really could cook, and hoping that a heavier meal than her lunch time sandwich would lessen the side effects of her painkillers. When he'd been making lunch earlier he'd still heard her shuffling around on the couch, reaching for her drink, always making some kind of sound, but now he heard nothing. A quick look into the living room had showed him that she was, however, asleep. He'd had to reluctantly shake her awake for dinner, but she insisted that she'd much prefer to have dinner than sleep through the meal and wake up hungry later. They'd eaten at the kitchen table, to get her away from the couch for a short while.

The evening was heralded by a floor of phone calls, no doubt the time that people had arrived home from work. First was Jane's cell, with Hightower asking him if he was planning to return to work the following morning – he said no. Next Grace called Lisbon, checking that Jane was actually taking care of her rather than driving her insane. Then Wayne called Jane, to warn him about taking care of her. Then Grace called Jane to apologize for Wayne's threat. Then Laila called each of them in turn to say goodnight, as she did every night. Finally, Cho called and the cell phone was passed between the two of them as he told them about their current case and Jane gave his input on it. A little later, Lisbon spent an hour on the phone to each of her brothers, their partners, and nieces and nephews.

Then things quietened down. Lisbon relaxed, her eyes closed but not sleeping, just listening to the sounds of hers and Jane's gentle breathing. It was nice having him there, to see how casually he placed his belongings amid hers, how easily he merged with her life. She'd have thought they'd have clashed, as they did at work, but instead he fit perfectly. It no longer felt as empty. The table on the far side of the couch was no longer empty, but now had Jane's cell phone and a book he'd been reading earlier on.

She could picture the two of them together in the kitchen, cooking dinner, Jane passing her plates ready to dish up a meal. She could picture the two of them walking a dog (she'd wanted another dog for ages), trailing behind an energetic ball of fluff hand-in-hand. She could picture them curling around each other at night, holding each other close with no barriers between their hearts or their bodies. She could picture them waking up beside each other, lazy good morning kisses saying more than words ever could. She could picture them lying on the couch together, each with their books and mugs of tea and coffee. And even though she never considered herself the kind, yes, she could see herself marrying this man.

A few years ago she wouldn't have wanted this. Even up until recently she wouldn't have seen herself settling down, especially not with Jane, of all people. She was still putting her career first and having a family had been something she'd sacrificed to do so. Since she was first hired, she'd thrown herself into her, diving headfirst into all available cases, any chance to prove herself as a capable agent...so at least she could be a success at something. And it had worked. It had worked so well that she had been able to believe the lie and turn it into her reason for living. She had a wonderful career that paid comfortably, kept her on her toes, intimidated men to the point where she rarely had a meaningful relationship and occupied her for most hours of the day so that she didn't need to think about how empty her apartment was when she returned home to it.

Until now.

Jane had sat down on the ground so that Lisbon had space to lie flat on the couch, and he took up a seat right in front of her, turning her television onto some old reruns of a comedy programme. Lisbon didn't recognise it as one she watched, but Jane had laughed triumphantly when he saw what it was so she let him have control over the remote. She turned a little to lie on her healthier side, hanging one arm over his shoulder. He placed his hand upon her wrist, holding it in place. He kissed her wrist, right above her pulse. His lips lingered there, as if reminding himself that her pulse meant she was alive.

"Its nice having you here," she said softly.

"It feels good to be home, rather than in that hospital," he agreed gently. He felt her move a little and turned around to catch her gaze out of the corner of her eye. "What is it?" he asked.

"You said '_home_'," she realised.

The word had rolled off of his tongue so easily that he'd barely realised he'd said it himself until she pointed it out. "So I did," he nodded.

"Sounded good," she smiled.

"It felt good," he agreed. He moved up from the floor, helped her into a sitting position then sat before her. "I'd like this to be my home," he told her, holding her hands in his. "I'd like _you_ to be my home."

Taking things inch by painful inch, they leaned towards each other; first breathing the same air, then closing their eyes as their lips brushed against each others. Content sighs escaped them both as the sensitive skin of their lips gently touched. They'd kissed before, first when they were both covered in her blood, and again numerous times in the hospital but they'd never developed the kiss, never taken it any further then a quick, soft exchange, always worried that a nurse or a co-worker visiting would interrupt them. Jane would have been happy there all night, being so close to her, feeling her breath against his mouth and knowing that she wanted to be that close to him. He could have stayed all night just holding her, feeling her against him in a way that he hadn't allowed himself to before.

It was Lisbon that moved first, bringing her hands to the back of his neck and entwining them in the soft curls along his hairline. His own hands travelled up, running his fingers through the entire length of her dark hair, something he had wanted to do almost obsessively for so long now. After reaching the ends of her locks, he bought his hands back up, cupping her cheek with one hand but returning his other to her hair, embedding it in the glossy strands. He wanted to savour the feeling, wanting to remember what it was like exactly at this moment, but he was unable to focus on anything other than the fact that his lips were against Lisbon's.

Butterflies fluttered at full speed in their stomachs as the full intensity of the moment hit them, both opening their eyes for just a second to gaze at each other. There was no one there to interrupt them, no nurses to insist that the kind of kissing they were leaning towards was a form of physical exertion and shouldn't be done under their hospital roof. The reciprocated look of 'I want this' shimmered off their eyes, matched in the first time in something other than the denial of tension between them. With this, their control snapped and Jane leaned in, claiming her lips fully with his own. It took a staggering few moments for her to react, moving into the kiss as he realised with amusement that he'd never have imagined her to allow him to take control. He always thought that she'd have been demanding in a relationship, but here she was, letting him take the kiss at his determination. She trusted him enough to surrender her control, she trusted him enough to release all her inhibitions and relax before him.

Everything that they had been through in the past years, including what had happened in the past few weeks, had lead them to this moment, this place, this time, together, and one they were in no hurry to rush. The kiss slowed, neither daring to speed it up in case they lost this precious contact before due time. As soft lips brushed over each other, gently lingering as they pressed together and parting only momentarily to return to their former resting place, warmth spread through them. Jane's arms linked around her, somewhat slowly they moved into a more comfortable position. He held her up in his arms so that she could move one leg over his. She was now almost sitting in his lap, not just to be closer to him but also so that she didn't have to bend around her abdomen, with his support there was no way she could hurt herself. Her hand, which was already clasped around his neck to hold herself to him began to stroke the skin below his hair, in the sensitive area where his hairline faded into soft baby-like strands of his dark spikes.

The sensation of fingers against the skin of his neck caused a shudder to echo down his spine and he finally moved to deepen the kiss, opening his lips further and tracing the edge of hers with is hungry tongue, begging for entrance. As she opened her lips with a gentle sigh against him, all other thoughts were thrown aside, especially when she let his tongue collide with her own. The sweet comfort that come from each other's touch after so long of fighting back the urges was all they needed to spur them on, their tongues dancing slowly at first, exploring every inch that the other offered. However, that was until Lisbon let out a moan against him, a delightful sound that sent vibrations through their mouths and shivers down his spine again – shivers he hadn't felt for a _very _long time. That beautiful sound urged him onwards, bringing her closer to his chest with the need to hear that moan again now that the top part of their bodies were pressed against each other. For a moment, he was afraid she was going to fight his hold, to break away but instead she shifted closer. The kiss deepened even more and he found himself delving past her lips repeatedly, her already ragged breaths catching in her chest as he found a sensitive spot inside her mouth that drove her insane, causing him to smile triumphantly into the kiss and commit the spot to memory.

Eventually, however, the need to breathe became too great and they had to part to ensure that the kiss didn't make them black out from oxygen deprivation. All that parted, however, was their lips. Jane kept his forehead against hers, his arms never releasing his hold on her. "I love you so much, Teresa," he told her in a breathy whisper.

"I can't believe this is happening," Lisbon muttered as they kissed again. And before either of them could realise what was happening they were becoming overwhelmed with years of pent up tension. Their kiss was needy, desperate even, unlike the previous kiss. Now, they were pouring lust into every movement of contact, and their exchange only became more passionate when Jane's hand moved to her hip, sliding underneath her shirt and caressing the bare skin that he found there. She let out another moan against his mouth, whispering his name in a sultry manner that caused him to groan in the back of his throat.

It wasn't until his hand accidentally brushed against the strip of gauze that they realised how quickly this was escalated. He quickly pulled away from the kiss as she hissed in pain at the contact – her painkillers were wearing off quicker with every dose she took. He wanted nothing more to return to her lips, but that would be wrong, he realised. If not for the sake of her recovery, but it had also been a long time since he had been in this position with a woman...a really, _really _long time, and his body was already starting to respond to her touches, her kisses, her caresses, but it wasn't supposed to happen this quickly. They needed to take their time, and perhaps the searing pain in her abdomen was sent to remind them of that.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled instantly.

"No, it's ok," she insisted, closing her eyes against the pain until it faded, which was taking longer than she thought.

"You're hurt," he reminded her. "I don't want to hurt you even more."

"You didn't hurt me," she said quickly, opening her eyes long enough to see the look he was giving her. "Ok, maybe it did hurt a _little_."

"I don't want to hurt you," he repeated.

"_Patrick_..." she whispered.

"We should wait," he insisted, even though a very demanding part of his anatomy was threatening to walk out on him for even thinking about that right now. "I need to prove to you than I'm in this."

"You already have," she told him.

He shook his head. "I want this to mean something. I want it to mean _everything_."

"And it will," she assured him.

"Plus, I don't want to rip your stitches," he added, to which she smiled. "We'll wait, we'll take our time, and it will be the most amazing night of our lives," he assured her.

She nodded, placing a kiss against his bottom lip. "I have no doubt about that," she nodded. "And I love you, so much."

Pulling her back against him, this time just holding her tightly, he sighed. "And I love you, my dear, Teresa."


	9. Chapter 9

**Pursuit Of Happiness**

**Chapter Nine**

"But I'm _comfortable_!"

Nobody would have thought that they'd ever have seen Patrick Jane willingly having a lie-in. He was a permanent insomniac, after all. He thrived on such little rest that it was a wonder that he was even alive. However, he was now clinging to the pillow beneath his head, lying on his stomach, trying not to have to leave the comforting cave he had made for himself. Lisbon's bed – well, their bed now – was one of the most comfortable he had ever laid in. Every time they buried themselves under the covers he got that 'new bed' sensation that you would usually only get when you were testing out mattresses in the store.

Perhaps it was the company. Perhaps it was the simple peace that came with sharing a bed with a woman again. Perhaps it was the feeling of waking up to a warm and grumpy body beside his when the run rose. Of course, there were things that he was looking forward to doing in the bed together, the step in their relationship that they hadn't taken yet. He'd stuck to his insistence that they should take this slow, and true to their agreement they were progressing at a snails pace. Every night they would get into the bed, curl up with each other (something that was much easier now that Lisbon was starting to heal properly) and they would fall asleep. At first, when Lisbon gained more freedom of movement, it was hard for them both. They wanted to test the waters, see what it was like to be that intimate with each other – if the intensity of the kissing was anything to go by, it was going to be like nothing they had experienced before. But now they had gotten used to simply curling up together and waking up even closer.

He was sure that it was Lisbon that had managed to get him to sleep more – and to enjoy it as well. He would usually wake before her, and though he wanted to get up, make her breakfast, tidy things from the previous evening so that she wouldn't need to think about it...he just couldn't stop watching her. The previous night, however, had been a rough night of sleep for him. He'd had nightmares through the night, always jerking awake only mildly disturbing Lisbon.

"Come on," came an ordering tone before him. "You offered this. You _begged _for this."

He groaned, burying his face in the pillow underneath him without looking at the redhead who stood over him. Lisbon would be better at waking him up than Grace, he decided. Lisbon could wake him up nicely, much more nicely than Grace was. Grace was standing there demanding that he move, completely undaunted at being awake this time in the morning. Of course, she had a newborn baby to wake her up before the crack of dawn every morning.

But she was right. He offered. And yes, he shamelessly begged. He had volunteered himself and Lisbon to baby-sit for Laila and Joshua. Grace and Wayne were good, hard working parents, and they deserved a break. Lisbon was climbing the walls about finally getting to meet Joshua in something other than photographs, and this was what he had used for leverage into convincing them into babysitting, and now it was the teams day off it was a great opportunity for the parents to spend some quality baby-free time together. It had started out as Lisbon's idea, but Jane knew he'd be doing the majority of the work as she was still finding it hard to move around a great deal without sparking a new round of pain off in her side, aggravating her wound even more so.

"Uncle Pat, you said we could _play_!" Laila protested, crawling up onto his bed and jumping up and down. Luckily, Lisbon wasn't in the bed when she was doing this, having moved in the living room an hour ago to make sure that somebody was around to greet Grace. Jane had stayed in bed, claiming that one more hours sleep was all he needed and he'd get up the second they heard the front door knock. He hadn't, though.

"We will," he assured her, sitting up finally and tugging a nearby clean t-shirt over his head. Joshua gurgled on the bed where Grace had laid him across the empty part of the mattress, safe from his sister's jumping. "Hi, little Josh," he said, poking his nose gently, watching as the little boy, only two weeks old, tried to follow his finger and make himself cross-eyed.

"_Uncle Pat_!" Laila complained again.

"Ok, I'm up," he announced, throwing back the covers (careful not to send Joshua flying with this action) and shuffling out of the room. Laila followed with a grin, grabbing hold of his hand and tugging him faster down the hall while Grace picked up her son and followed in the same manner. "Why are you leaving so early anyway?" Jane asked.

"We both wanted to avoid the 9am diaper," Grace said simply. Jane stopped walking, giving her a fearful look as he attempted to detect whether or not she was lying. Unfortunately, she wasn't. "We usually draw straws over it," she told him. Jane gulped as she walked past him, patting his arm. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't be too bad."

He wandered tiredly into the living room, stumbling to keep up with Laila's insistent tug. Lisbon had made herself comfortable in the same sideways position she had done most mornings, so he leaned over the back of the couch on the way to the kitchen to greet her with a kiss. "Good morning, my love," he mumbled against her lips.

"Good morning," she smiled back.

"You okay?" he asked her. "You take your meds and stuff?" Lisbon had developed a small infection in the wound last week, so was on anti-biotics.

She nodded. "I've had breakfast as well. There's tea in the pot for you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "That doesn't sound a lot like the resting that the doctor ordered," he noticed.

She shook her head. "I was hungry and _someone _was still sleeping."

"You should have woken me up," he told her.

He laughed. "We tried. Apparently, only Laila holds that magical power."

"Coffee?" he asked her.

"Actually, I'll join you in a tea," she told him.

He smiled, glad that he was finally rubbing off on her. "Do you have time for a coffee, Grace?" he asked her, straightening up from the couch.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she just grinned at him.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"You two!" she smiled. "You're _so _adorable."

Lisbon and Jane looked at each other. "Adorable?" they repeated in unison.

She nodded, as if she were swooning over her favourite TV show couple. "I _knew _you two had feelings for each other. Honestly, Jane, when you kissed her in the hospital Wayne wanted to take a photo of it, have it blown up poster-sized with the words 'I told you so' on the top."

He stared at her long and hard, trying to figure out a way that any other person other than Rigsby would see that as normal, but he found none. "Is that a yes or a no on the coffee?" he asked.

"No, thanks," she said. "I'm still giving breastfeeding a shot."

Lisbon looked at her, curious. Grace hadn't breastfed with Laila because she hadn't taken to it, but this time she was determined to try. "How are you getting on?" she asked.

"Great now," she nodded. "Neither of us seemed to like it at first, but at least he was feeding. It's not that uncomfortable once you get used to it though."

"He's feeding well, then?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," she nodded. "He definitely has his dad's appetite."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Lisbon smiled at her. "I heard that mothers create wonderful bonds with their children through it."

"We're bottle feeding as well," she told her. "That way Wayne gets to do some of the feeds as well, but at the moment Joshua seems to prefer breastfeeding."

At this, Jane held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I have to walk away from this conversation now," he said.

Lisbon gaped at him, and Grace put her hands on her hips. "Breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful event for mothers and their children," Grace told him.

"I know it is," he assured them both. "And I felt completely different about sitting around and listening to talk about it when it was _my _child. But Joshua is _your _child and he's feeding from your...you know. So I need some tea. Now."

As he walked away from them and into the kitchen, he heard the two of them carry on talking, but it was Grace's voice that stood out to him the most. "Did he just reveal something about his marriage?"

* * *

Laila had worn herself out playing, so Jane had taken her into their bedroom for a lap around lunch time. She'd put up no fight to it, so she'd happily snuggled down into Lisbon's side of the bed and gone off to sleep. Joshua had slept in his carrier most of the morning, but he had woken up for a feed and remained awake long enough for Lisbon to properly meet the child afterwards. She was currently sitting cross-legged on the couch, holding Joshua in her arms in a way that made sure that any movement by him wouldn't cause her any pain.

When Jane returned from the bedroom he stood in the doorway, watching her for a while. She just stared at the little boy, who cooed and made gentle, content sounds in her arms. He could see from the ease of the position that the weight of a baby in her arms was almost reassuring, comforting to her. As he stepped closer, she gently stroked a finger down Joshua's cheek, a curiosity to the touch, before the baby reached out and grabbed the finger and held onto it tightly. She smiled at this, a soft smile that he'd not seen much on her lips before. He couldn't help but match her smile – she looked so natural with a child in her arms, so happy. At that moment, when his stomach lurched, he could see himself having a real future with her. He'd known that he loved her unconditionally, but there had still been a part of his mind that doubted whether he was capable of having a full relationship with somebody, but seeing this before him made him quell those thoughts. He wanted everything with Lisbon. He wanted gorgeous children, whether they had her dark hair, or his blonde curls, whether their eyes were green or blue. He wanted a mini-them.

"He's so _precious_," Lisbon whispered as Jane settled down on the couch beside her.

"You're good with him," Jane noted, putting his arm along the back of the couch so that his hanging fingertips trailed along her shoulder.

"I'm just holding him," she said.

"But he's happy enough to sit here," he pointed out. "Trust me, this one grizzles like a bear when he's not comfortable."

She smiled again, paying all of her attention to Joshua who was turning his head from side to side. She stroked his cheek again, turning his eyes onto her with a gurgle. "He's a perfect mix of his parents," she noted. "So much like both of them."

He watched the content smile on her face as she showered attention on her little godson. He knew that she felt guilty, because she had missed his birth even after she had promised to be Grace's birth partner, but in hindsight she knew how special a moment it had been for her and Wayne to do it together, even if he had been nervous about it. And though had been through some troubles, and there were complications, they had been together, hand in hand, completely together as their son entered the world. With that observation, he fell into a short silence. His eyes never left her face, but she found it was a long time before he spoke. "Do you want kids someday?" he asked her quietly.

She laughed a little. "It's a bit early to be talking about that, isn't it?" she brushed off. "I mean, we haven't even-"

"_Someday_," he repeated.

She fell quiet for a moment. "The scar on my hip," she whispered.

"Yes," he nodded. He'd seen it when helping her change her dressing the other day.

"I was shot on my first month in Bosco's team," she told him. They clipped me just under my vest and the bullet went up at an angle. There was some damage. Internally."

"Damage that impacted your fertility," he realised with a slow nod.

"It may have done," she told him. "There was lots of scarring, and they told me that complications of that manner made it highly unlikely that I'd ever conceive. Since it wasn't an issue at the time, it never bothered me."

"_Unlikely_," he repeated. "Not impossible."

"Perhaps not," she noted. "But it would still be dangerous, there's a risk of complications."

"There always is," he pointed out. "Grace was perfectly healthy and she had complications during Joshua's birth, and look how this little guy turned out," he said, indicating to Joshua, whose tiny eyes were drooping. Lisbon adjusted her arms slightly so that he was cradling him more securely against her. "I'm not saying...well, I'm just saying that if it _was _something you wanted in the future, then you shouldn't let maybes stop you from trying," he told her softly.

Lisbon watched the little bow slowly drift off to sleep. Yes, Jane was right – it was technically only high odds, odds which had been overcome by many couples. There was ways of getting around bad odds. However, it was more becoming a mother that needed considering. She had to factor in her job, her childhood doubts, her adult doubts...as well as the doubts that a child might affect Jane in a way that bought back memories in a way that he insisted they wouldn't.

"Maybe," she nodded, looking up at him and giving him the best reassuring smile she could manage. "We'll see, ok?"

"_I_ think it'd be great," he continued. She went to speak, but he shook his head, giving her a kiss. "I'm just saying that it sounds like an adventure, I wasn't asking you to start decorating the spare room," he assured her. "We're obviously in it for the long haul, so I wanted you to know that if anything were to happen in that respect, that I'd be ok with it. I _adored _being a father, Teresa, and getting to do it again and sharing it with _you_...it's something I've imagined many times since seeing you with Laila, I won't lie about that."

She said nothing, but she put her head on his shoulder and got comfortable. And in some strange way, it felt like family.

* * *

When they went to bed that night, things happened in silence but not with the usual comfort. They focused entirely on what they were doing – Lisbon removing her t-shirt, changing into a clean nightshirt, then carefully sitting on the edge of the bed to remove her sweat pants and exchange them also, and Jane watching her every move. She was tense, he could see that a mile away. Something was on her mind, and he would bet his reputation (just the good part, mind) that it was because he had foolishly bought up the subject of children. He couldn't help it though, in his defence. His impulse control was...well, it didn't exist. Seeing her cradling Joshua with such ease was something that made his heart flutter, a feeling he remembered and wanted to experience this again.

When she finished changing, she stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing. Jane crossed the room, crouching on the ground before her. She didn't notice him until she felt his hand brush her cheek. "Sorry," she mumbled, snapping back into reality.

"I freaked you out earlier, didn't I?" he realised.

"Patrick, it was fine," she assured him with a gentle smile.

He gave her a half-hearted smirk. "C'mon, Teresa, remember who you're lying to," he pointed out.

"I'm not-" she began, but his pointed stare caused her to stop, sigh, and begin again. "Ok, I was a _little _freaked out," she admitted. "But not completely."

"Because you want it too," he realised.

"_Someday_," she insisted, just as he had pressed earlier.

He nodded, smiling at her. "Someday is good," he agreed, leaning up to give her now smiling lips a kiss. "Someday means that I have time to enjoy you for my own for a little while first."

"A little while?" she repeated curiously, as his lips moved to her jaw line.

"We said _someday_, but we never agreed how far away that someday was," he told her. The gentleness and hope in his voice so very close to her ear now was relaxing, and she allowed her shoulders to surrender to the tension as his hands moved into her hair and she allowed her hands to rest on his chest. "Come on," he whispered, helping her up and guiding her into the bed properly.

As they did every night, they climbed in beside each other. Lisbon automatically curled up on her good side, facing in towards the bed. He heard her take the usual shuddering breath as her body got used to the new position, and waited for her to be completely comfortable before he moved in beside her. He gave her no warning as he slipped his arms behind her, one hand burying in her hair as he settled into his usual sleeping position. She let her nearest arm rest over his side, holding him towards her.

"Patrick," she whispered into the darkness, her breath tickling his cheek.

"Mmm?" he mumbled in reply.

"I'm looking forward to someday," she admitted, her voice so quiet that if he hadn't felt the breath accompanying it, he wouldn't have thought she really spoke.

He let out a breathy sigh as he smiled. Even though his eyes were still closed, he inched closer, his lips finding hers. "Sure you can handle my mini-me's?" he mocked her.

She scoffed. "I can handle _you_, can't I?"

"Barely," he mumbled. "However, now that we're no longer keeping life-altering secrets from one another...say, for instance, that we love each other..." she smiled at this. "..I am powerless to resist any way in which you wish to handle me."

She laughed softly, snuggling her face into his shoulder. "Good night, Patrick."

He smiled. "Goodnight, future mother of my someday children."

He felt her smiling, despite her next statement. "Patrick, that's _not _funny."

"No, it won't be," he agreed. "They'll be challenging, hyperactive, easily amused...much like their father only with your eyes-"

"_Patrick_," she told him firmly.

"Yes, my love?"

"Go to sleep."

He smiled, pulling her a fraction closer before settling down. "Yes, my love."


	10. Epilogue

**Pursuit Of Happiness**

**Epilogue**

Jane and Lisbon sat side by side on the couch. This had become their traditions, Saturday nights, movie and pizza, the two of them with no interruptions. It was a tradition they liked, something that grounded them, and something they were in no hurry to change. Tonight, however, as the final instalment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy played into the otherwise silent living room, neither of them was really paying attention to what was happening on the television. Jane was too busy watching the woman in his arms, knowing that the reason he had picked a particularly long film was because he hoped it might bore her into talking to him about whatever was bothering her. He knew that something was on her mind, but whenever he asked her about it she brushed him off, insisting that she was fine.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked her, as Aragorn was finally crowned the King of Gondor or something like that on the screen. He enjoyed this trilogy, but no matter how many times he read the books he found it hard to remember who was king of where.

"Yes, I'm completely sure," she assured him.

"Honestly?"

"One hundred percent," she nodded.

"You know you could tell me if there was-"

She turned to him, now sitting sideways on the couch and facing him. "Patrick, I appreciate your concern, but really, I am fine," she told him firmly.

There was another silence and he nodded, looking away from her. She noticed the slightly hurt expression on his face and to make sure that he knew she wasn't mad at him she took hold of his hand, giving him a gentle smile. When he saw this smile, it removed all negative emotions from him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I know it's bugging you; me keep asking this."

"It's not bugging me," she assured him. "I just don't understand why this is bothering you so much."

"I can't help worrying about you, Teresa, you know that," he reminded her.

"It's nice to know that you care that much," she admitted. "I just wish you wouldn't worry so much."

"Easier said that done," he mused.

"Still, perhaps its worth trying sometimes, right?" she hinted.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Would you mind terribly if now isn't one of those times?" he asked.

She sighed. "Patrick, really, I'm fine," she insisted again.

"See, as much as you say that, I just can't believe you," he said, turning to face her in a similar way to which she was seated now.

"You think I'm lying?" she tested him.

"Not lying," he corrected quickly. "Just not elaborating on the truth."

"Really, Patrick, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Isn't there?" he questioned. "Teresa, you've been quieter than usual for days. Every time somebody tries to talk to you, you end up wandering off to be alone and you're hardly sleeping either..." at this, she turned her face away from him, staring intently at the television. "You said you were happy with the way things were, so why start doubting it now?" he asked.

"I'm not doubting anything," she whispered.

"Then what?"

She was silent.

"Teresa, you can tell me."

She shook her head. "You'll think it's ridiculous," she said.

"I don't care," he shrugged. "You could tell me that you were imagining a group of dancing birds in the middle of the room and I wouldn't care." He leaned in to her, kissing her cheek. "I just don't want you to be doing whatever it is you're doing on your own anymore."

She had to smile at his words, and decided it was better to tell him if only to save the questions. "I think I've just finally started to see that this is my life now," she mused. "Here, with you. It's so surreal sometimes, and I can't believe that it's happened because I'm not used to being this happy."

And true to his word, he did seem to understand. "I see what you mean," he nodded.

"Sometimes, just before I open my eyes in the morning, I wonder whether I've dreamed everything and I'm still in that coma," she admitted, a little quieter than before.

"You know that won't ever happen," he assured her.

"I know," she smiled. "That's why it's ridiculous. I know that nothing will have changed when I open my eyes, but sometimes this all seems so unbelievable."

He leaned back a little, looking deep into her eyes. "Teresa, you're happy with things how they are?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I wouldn't want them any other way."

"Then you shouldn't be afraid that it'll disappear," he smiled. She returned the grin, which grew when his hands settled on her upper arms. "Look, Teresa, no matter what happens, we'll always find a way to be together. We're in this now and we're not backing out. So, whenever you need further convincing of that just come and find me, and we'll find a way to work it into your head that this is how things are supposed to be," he smiled, before letting his eyes fall over her body briefly. "And I can start that by telling you how insanely beautiful and captivating you are and that I love you more than anything in this universe."

She let out a tiny laugh. "I love you too," she assured him.

Their lips met, as they had done a thousand times, but it still gave them a fresh tingling of something new and exciting. "I'm sorry if I worry too much," he mumbled against her lips afterwards.

"I think I can forgive you," she nodded. "Unless, of course, you go too far with it."

"Define 'too far'," he asked awkwardly.

"Following me around even more of the day than you already do would definitely be too far," she decided.

He laughed. "How do you know I don't do it anyway and I'm just very skilled at being hidden?"

"I would know," she insisted immediately. "Besides, you're too busy watching the one who's following you around every second of the day."

His smile grew, and his eyes filled with a familiar warmth as they always did when this topic was mentioned. "He's too much like you for his own good."

"Not completely," she argued.

"No?" he laughed.

"Every time I look at him, I see you," she insisted.

He shook his head. "His hair's too dark to be me," he mused.

"What do you expect?" she asked. "Clearly I had the dominant hair genes. Besides, you're forgetting how he has your blue eyes, and he's always sneaking up on people like you do."

Jane smiled triumphantly. "I'm training him well."

They laughed and their lips met once more. This time, when they pulled away, there was a fire burning in their eyes that was more than just concern and reassurance. "You know," Jane mused. "Perhaps it's a good thing that our little monster is having a sleep over tonight," he nodded.

"He's not a monster," she said innocently, shuddering as he scraped his fingertips down her spine. "Although, he and Joshua are probably driving Laila insane."

"She has her friends over too," he reminded. "Pre-teens hate young boys, it's a rule. She is eleven now."

"And our little guy is nearly five," she realised. "He won't need us anymore, soon."

He bought his lips closer to hers. "Alex is always going to need his parents," he assured her. "And when he's all grown up and claims he doesn't, I'll still need you."

"Is that so?" she asked innocently.

"Let me show you how much," he said seductively, pressing his lips down to hers.

END.

**A/N: Yes, this really is the final chapter. I've really enjoyed writing this story, and I've enjoyed reading your reviews even more. It's definitely convinced me to write more Jisbon and Rigspelt stories. At the moment I'm focusing on The Fire Breathes, which is a big Jibson story and I'd like to see what some of you make of that if you fancy reading. Also, I am on livejournal now where I'll be posting alerts for any new stories that I put up if anyone fancies adding me as a friend.**

**Thank you for reading **


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